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Baron  Montez 

of  Panama  and  Paris 


ARCHIBALD   CLAVERIMG   GUTTER 


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BARON    MONTEZ 


OF  PANAMA  AND  PARIS 


a  Kobel 


ARCHIBALD    CLAVERING    CxUNTER 


// 


AUTHOR    OF 


MR.  BARNES  OF  NEW  YORK,  MR.  POTTER  OF  TEXAS, 

**THAT    FRENCHMAN  !""  MISS    NOBODY     OF    NO-      ^ 
WHERE,"    ''A   FLORIDA    ENCHANTMENT," 
"miss     DIVIDENDS,"     ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

THE   HOME   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

3  East  Fourteenth  Street 


Copyright,  189a, 
By   a.  C.  GUNTER. 


All  rif^kts  reserved. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


ARCHIBALD  CLAVERIN6  GDNTER'S 
Celebrated  Novels. 


MR.  BARNES   OF   NEW  YORK. 

MR.  POTTER  OF  TEXAS. 

THAT    FRENCHMAN  ! 

MISS    NOBODY    OF    NOWHERE. 

A  FLORIDA  ENCHANTMENT. 

MISS    DIVIDENDS. 


Siory  for  Children  of  All  Ages. 

SMALL  BOYS  IN  BIG  BOOTS. 

ILLUSTRATED. 


M202656 


CONTENTS. 
BOOK   I. 

A    TRAGEDY    OF    THE    EARLY    ISTHMUS. 

PAGE 

Chapter      I. — The  Returning  Californians,    -  -  7 

II.— "A  Toboga  Breakfast  in  '56,"  -  14 

III.— The  Railroad  Station  at  Panama.  -  23 

"         IV. — What  the  Moon  Saw  in  Panama,  -  31 

BOOK    II. 

THE    FRANCO-AMERICAN. 

Chapter       V. — Black  Blood  Changes  to  Blue,        -     41 

"  VI. — Jessie's  Letter,      -         -        -         -53 

VII.— "  No  !  By  Eternal  Justice  !  "  -     61 

BOOK   III. 

THE    AMERICAN    BROTHER. 

Chapter  VIII. — The  Stenographer's  Day-Dream,  69 
IX.— The  Angel  of  the  Blizzard,           -  81 
"              X. — A  Chance  Meeting  at  Delmonicos',  92 
"             XI. — An    Exile    from   the   Four    Hun- 
dred,           105 

XII.— A  Wild-Goose  Chase,  -         -         -118 

XIII.— The  Bundle  of  Letters,        -         -  127 

XIV.— Little  Paris,          -         -         -         -  140 


6 

CONTENTS. 

BOOK    IV. 

THE 

STRUGGLE     IN     PANAMA. 

PACE 

Chapter        XV.- 

— Winterburn's  Museum, 

-      151 

XVI.- 

—The  Duplicate  Tintype,    - 

-      162 

XVII. 

— Vadalia  Cardinalis,  - 

-      172 

XVIII.- 

— Bebe's  Little  Present, 

-      183 

XIX.- 

—Whispers  of  the  Dying,     - 

-      192 

XX. 

—Domingo  of  Porto  Bello, 

-     201 

XXI.- 

—After  Her  ! 

-     209 

BOOK   V. 

THE    HURLY-BURLY    IN    PARIS. 

Chapter     XXII. — The  Mind  of  a  Lunatic,    -         -  217 

XXIIL— The  Honor  of  France,      -         -  225 

XXIV.— Baron  Montez' Wedding  Day,     232 

XXV.— The  Preferred  Creditor,  -251 


BARON   MONTEZ 

OF   PANAMA   AND    PARIS. 


BOOK    I. 
A  Tragedy  of  the  Karly  Isthmus. 


CHAPTER    I. 

the  returning  californians. 

"Anita  !  " 

*'  Fernando,  light  of  my  heart  !  Returned  from  the 
Pearl  Islands  !  "  cries  the  beautiful  Indian  girl  rushing  to 
his  arms  and  covering  Mr.  Fernando's  olive  face  with  the 
kisses  of  youth  and  love.  Anita  is  but  fifteen,  and  the 
heart  grows  fast  under  the  sun  of  the  Equator. 

Fernando  himself  is  scarce  twenty,  but  he  does  not  seem 
so  ardent.  He  replies  carelessly,  "  Yes,  last  night,  by  the 
Columbus''  pointing  to  that  little  unseaworthy  steamer  as 
she  lies  languidly  upon  the  blue  waters  of  the  Bay  of  Pan- 
ama, about  three  miles  from  the  town,  and  seven  from  the 
lovely  Island  of  Toboga,  from  which  these  two  are  gazing 
at  it. 

"  Last  night,  and  you  did  not  come  to  me  ?  you — away 
five  days  I  "  answers  the  girl,  tears  coming  into  her  eyes 
that  flash  through  mists  of  passion  like  topaz  stones. 

"  Last  night  I  had  business  in  Panama — great  business. " 
Then  the  young  man  says  anxiously,  "  Is  the  Americano 
well?" 

"Yes." 


•'8  t.-RON    MONTEZ. 

"And  hereV 

"Still  here." 

"  He  has  not  gone  yet  !  Blessings  on  God  !  And  his 
wife— the  beautiful  Senora  Alicia,  the  lady  with  the  white 
skin  ?  She  has  recovered  from  her  touch  of  the  fever 
Panama  ? " 

"  She  is  better.  They  go  to  the  mainland  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Ho-oh  !  " 

"  To-morrow  morning  they  take  passage  on  the  rail- 
way, to  Aspinwall,  and  then  go  on  the  big  vessel  with  the 
smoke  to  the  great  America  beyond  the  sea." 

"A-ah,  she  is  well  enough  to  travel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  yellow  no  more  ;  her  cheeks  are  red  as  the 
blossoms  of  the  manzanilla." 

"  For  Dios  !  She  must  be  lovely  as  a  mermaid  of  Las 
Islas  de  las  Perks  !  "  murmurs  Fernando  half  to  himself, 
but  still  not  sufficiently  low  to  miss  the  sharp  ear  of  an 
Indian  ;  for  at  his  words  the  dark  eyes  of  Anita  flash 
ominously,  her  full,  round  bosom  pants  under  its  white 
semi-transparent  cotton  drapery,  and  she  mutters  sav- 
agely to  herself. 

"  What'  are  you  saying  under  your  breath,  Anita  ? " 
cries  the  young  man. 

"  Nothing  !  I — I  was  only  whispering  a  prayer  to  the 
Virgin  for  the  young  American  lady's  recovery,  in  the 
language  of  my  tribe,"  answers  the  girl  hesitatingly. 

^^  'Diablo  !  No  more  of  the  language  of  your  tribe  !  I 
don't  understand  the  language  of  your  tribe  !  "  sneers 
Seiior  Fernando,  giving  the  girl  a  little  slap  on  her 
shapely  brown  shoulder  and  a  nasty  glance  out  of  his 
bright  eyes.  To  this  she  does  not  reply,  as  she  passes 
round  the  corner  of  the  bamboo  cottage,  apparently 
overcome  by  some  emotion  she  would  sooner  the  gentle- 
man who  has  been  speaking  to  her  would  not  discern  in 
her  face. 

"  By  all  the  saints  of  the  cathedral,  I  believe  the  fool 
is  jealous  of  my  passion  for  the  beautiful  Ajnericana  ! 
Anita  jealous  !  Did  she  but  know  there  is  an  Anita  at 
Cruces,  another  at  the  Island  del  Rey^  and  half  a  dozen 
more  scattered  between  Aspinwall  and  Panama,  little 
Anita  of  Toboga  would  have  fine  cause  for  jealousy," 
chuckles  the  young  gentleman,  smoothing  his  elaborate 


EARON    MONTEZ.  p 

and  spotlessly  white  shirt  front,  and  settling  the  bright 
red  sash  around  his  hips,  in  the  conceited  way  peculiar 
to  South  American  dandies. 

A  moment  after,  he  thinks  :  "  What  matters  one  Indian 
girl,  more  or  less  ?  Besides,  to-day  I  have  other  things — 
they  are  going  away  to-day.  How  lucky  I  returned  from 
the  Pearl  Islands  in  time  !  But  now,  For  Dios  ! — every- 
thing is  arranged  for  the  departure  to-night  of  the 
American,  his  treasure,  and  his — beautiful — wife."  He 
lisps  this  through  his  white  teeth,  as  he  looks  lazily  out 
over  the  Bay  of  Panama,  and  dreams  a  day-dream  which 
seems  to  be  a  pleasant  one. 

It  is  shortly  interrupted  by  a  hearty  American  voice 
saying :  "  Back  at  last,  Senor  Montez.  I  hope  you 
have  brought  the  pearls.  I  was  afraid  we  would  not 
be  able  to  wait  for  you.  A  gleaming  necklace  would  be 
a  very  pretty  present  for  my  little  girl  in  the  United 
States." 

With  these  words,  a  brown-faced,  hardy  and  stalwart 
American,  George  Merritt  Ripley,  steps  upon  the  bamboo 
portico  and  gives  the  man  he  addresses  a  hearty  grasp 
of  the  hand.  Ripley's  manners  are  those  of  one  who 
has  been  educated  as  a  gentleman,  but  has  to  a  limited 
extent  thrown  off  the  veneer  of  society  among  the  rough 
and  ready  companions  of  Alta  California. 

This  is  apparent  as  he  continues.'  ''  Light  a  cigar,  my 
Spanish  friend,  and  enjoy  the  view  with  me,  this  beauti- 
ful morning  ;  "  and,  taking  a  camp  chair,  places  his  feet 
lazily  upon  the  bamboo  railing  of  the  veranda,  making  a 
fine  picture  of  a  returning  Californian  of  the  fifties  in  his 
light  woollen  turn-away  shirt,  Panama  hat,  black  trousers, 
high  boots  and  belted  revolver. 

"  Gracias  !  "  The  Spaniard  accepts  the  offered  weed 
and  then  suggests  :  *'  Your  wife,  I  understand,  is  now 
sufficiently  recovered,  to  continue  her  journey  to  the 
United  States." 

"  Yes,  thank  God!  "  answers  the  American.  Then  his 
lip  trembles  a  little,  as  he  says:  "  Though  our  first  day 
in  Panama,  I  was  afraid  my  Alice  would  leave  me  for 
ever  ;  "  and  sighs  :  "  That  would  have  been  the  saddest 
parting  on  earth.  My  wife  going  to  the  embraces  of  our 
daughter  she  has  not  seen  for  four  years — since  we  left 
her  to  journey  to  California." 


lO  BARON    MONTEZ. 

'*  Why  did  you  not  take  her  with  you  to  the  land  of 
gold  ? " 

"  What !  take  a  child  of  twelve  across  the  Isthmus  in 
1852  ?  With  its  boat  travel  on  the  Chagres — its  night  at 
Gargona,  amid  the  clicking  of  dice  and  the  curses  of  the 
gamblers — its  morning  of  miasma,  going  up  the  river  to 
Cruces,  and  its  mule  ride  through  tropical  forests  infested 
by  thieves  and  banditti  ?  That  would  have  been  too 
great  a  risk  ;  but  now,  with  the  railroad,  our  return  is  dif- 
ferent and  safe." 

At  the  American's  mention  of  gamblers  at  Gargona, 
and  bandits  on  the  Cruces  road  in  1852,  a  slight  smile 
has  rippled  the  olive  features  of  the  young  man  to  whom 
he  is  talking. 

As  the  returning  Californian  speaks  of  the  railroad,  the 
smile  on  the  Spaniard's  features  changes  to  a  scowl,  but 
a  moment  after  he  assents  laughingly  :  ''  Yes,  it  is  differ- 
ent."  Then  a  gleam  of  diabolical  hope  comes  into  his 
face,  as  he  says  :  "  I  am  glad  the  Senora  is  well  enough 
to  travel." 

"  Yes,  we  leave  here  this  afternoon.  That  reminds  me 
I  must  thank  you  for  your  kindness  of  the  week.  Had  it 
not  been  for  you,  Alice  would  have  remained  in  Panama, 
and  perhaps  have  succumbed  to  the  fever  ;  but  here  on 
this  beautiful  island,  the  sea  breezes  and  the  perfume  of 
the  tamarind  groves  have  been  better  for  her  than  all  the 
quinine  in  the  universe,  and  all  the  doctors  on  earth.  So 
I  shall  take  her  back  to  the  East  to  meet  our  child,  and 
a  re-united  family  will  settle  down  to  a  life  of  civilization, 
blessing  God  for  the  gold  placers  of  the  Sierras,  for  I 
hive  been  very  fortunate  in  California.  My  wife  will  be 
dressed  very  shortly,  Sefior  Montez.  Would  you  mind 
suggesting  to  the  kind  Anita  that  sea  breezes  bring 
appetite  for  breakfast  ? " 

With  this  the  gentleman  returns  into  the  little  cottage 
of  bamboo  walls  and  palm-thatched  roof,  and  Fernando 
Gomez  Montez,  looking  after  him,  murmurs  :  "  He  has 
been  very  fortunate  !  "  and  thinks  covetously  of  a  strong 
iron-bound  chest  the  returning  Californian  carries  with 
him,  whose  weight  indicates  that  it  contains  the  gold  of 
the  Sierras. 

Then  his  agile  though  sensuous  mind  wanders  to  the 
beauty  that  he  knows  the  slight  bamboo  walls  keep  from 


BARON    MONTEZ.  II 

his  prying,  inquisitive,  hungering  eyes — the  beauty  of  the 
American  lady — the  white  lady  whose  loveliness  he  has 
longed  for  since  he  has  seen  it — more  than  for  the  big- 
gest pearl  ever  fished  up  from  the  blue  waters  of  the  Gulf 
of  Panama. 

So  he  chuckles,  looking  over  his  own  personal  charms 
which  he  thinks  are  great,  for  he  has  very  nice  regular 
white  teeth  and  sparking  dark  eyes ;  his  skin  is  a  very 
mild  chocolate  color,  and  his  slight,  wiry,  petite  figure 
is  clothed  in  immaculate  white  linen  save  where  his  bright 
red  sash  circles  his  dapper  waist  and  falls  down  his 
right  leg  almost  to  his  highly  polished  patent  leather 
Wellington  boots. 

Then  hearing  a  woman's  soft  voice  within  the  bam- 
boo walls,  he  mutters  :  "  The  Calif ornian  is  bigger  than 
1  ;  but  she  will  forget  him  for  me — the  prettiest  boy  in 
Panama  !  "  and,  gazing  over  the  bay,  sees  in  the  distance, 
on  the  shore,  the  ramparts  of  the  town,  the  white  walls 
of  its  houses,  and  the  glittering  domes  of  its  cathedrals. 

Back  of  it  are  the  savannas,  green  as  emeralds,  that 
glisten  in  the  rising  sun  ;  beyond,  the  Cordilleras  droop 
to  the  lowest  gap  of  that  great  ridge  that  divides  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific — so  low  here  that  twenty-five  years 
after,  they  will  draw  all  the  gold  from  the  stockings  of 
the  saving  peasants  of  Brittany  and  Normandy,  in  the 
vain  attempt  to  make  the  waters  of  the  Pacific  and 
Atlantic  meet. 

Behind  the  South  American  town  rise  two  green  hills 
— the  nearest,  called  Ancoti;  the  other,  farther  back,  an 
advance  peak  of  the  Sierras,  is  the  Cerro  de  Filibusteres — 
thus  ominously  named  because  Morgan,  the  buccaneer, 
first  gazed  upon  the  old  Panama  that  he  and  his  two 
thousand  miscreants  (gathered  from  all  quarters  of  the 
earth)  three  days  afterwards  destroyed  with  lust  and  pil- 
lage and  rapine  and  fire  and  blood. 

Looking  on  this,  Montez  murmurs:  "How  peaceful! 
how  beautiful  !  "  Even  his  soul  is  struck  by  the  lovely 
view  before  him,  though  he  has  seen  it  a  hundred  times, 
for  to  devils'  eyes,  heaven  is  sometimes  lovely  :  and  this 
looks  like  heaven — though  it  is  not. 

The  sea  breezes  bring  to  him  the  scent  of  the  tamarind, 
lime  and  orange  groves.  Around  him  is  a  mass  of  green 
— feathery  green— of   palms   and   bamboos,  brightened 


12  BARON    MONTEZ. 

here  and  there  by  red  and  yellow  blossoms,  that  are 
strung,  as  if  on  florist's  wreaths,  from  tree  to  tree,  and 
often  dangle  and  droop  into  the  limpid  waters  that. lave 
the  shore  of  fair  Toboga  Island. 

In  front  of  him,  and  round  to  right  and  left,  are  waves 
clear  as  blue  diamonds,  in  which  the  fish  are  seen  as  in 
some  gigantic  aquarium  :  the  white  shark,  mixing  with 
shoals  of  baracuta,  and  now  and  then  a  shiver  of  pearly 
water  thrown  into  the  air  by  flights  of  flying  fish,  that 
glisten  in  the  sun. 

A  little  to  his  right,  concealing  a  portion  of  the  modern 
town  of  Panama,  are  three  or  four  islands — green  to  the 
water's  edge.  Were  he  nearer  to  them,  they  would  also 
be  brightened  by  the  colors  of  innumerable  tropical  flow- 
ers, and  made  joyous  by  the  songs  of  tropic  birds.  Beyond 
these,  on  the  mainland  to  the  south,  lie  the  ruins  of  the 
old  town  of  Panama — the  one  that  Morgan  made  no  more. 
Farther  towards  the  Equator,  the  mountain  range,  grow- 
ing higher,  disappears  in  j:he  blue  sky. 

To  the  southeast,  but  beyond  his  eye,  lie  the  beautiful 
Is/as  de  las  Perlcs.  Around  him  it  is  all  green  and  golden 
yellow  and  brilliant  red — the  foliage,  fruits,  and  flowers  of 
the  tropics  ;  about  him  blue  ;  at  his  feet  the  waters  of  the 
Gulf  ;  above  him  the  ether  of  a  fairy  atmosphere.  Its 
dreamy  effect  appeals  to  his  sensuous  soul.  He  gazes 
entranced. 

But  as  he  looks  his  restless  eyes  catch,  just  on  the  right 
of  the  new  town  of  Panama,  a  little  smoke  that  goes 
peacefully  into  the  air  above  it,  and  mingles  with  it.  It 
comes  from  one  of  the  locomotives  of  the  Panama  Rail- 
way, completed  but  eighteen  months  before,  and  a  glearri- 
ing  smile,  as  bright  and  sunny  as  the  day  he  looks  on, 
comes  into  the  eyes  of  Fernando  Gomez  Montez,  as  he 
thinks:  "Our  mulateros  and  the  Chagres  boatmen  hate 
this  railroad  that  has  taken  from  them  the  just  dues 
they  filched  from  the  stupid  Gringos  who  travel  across 
our  land.  This  iron  track  robs  our  honest  banditti  of 
their  chances  of  spoil  and  plunder  on  the  Cruces  mule 
trail.  To-night  this  helps  me !  To-night  I  have  both  the 
American's  treasure   and  his  wife  !  " 

Then  he  giggles  and  chuckles  to  himself,  emotions 
running  over  his  mobile  countenance,  as  fantastic, 
bizarre,  and  changing  as  the  many  drops  of  the  blood  of 


BARON    MONTEZ.  13 

the  various  human  races  who  in  two  centuries  have  passed 
across  this  highway  of  the  world  ;  and  Montez  of  Pan- 
ama has  a  drop  of  nearly  all  the  races  of  the  earth 
within  his  despicable  carcass,  and  each  drop — the  basest. 

He  has  the  drop  that  gives  the  cunning  of  the  Spaniard  ; 
the  drop  that  holds  the  bourgeois  greed  of  the  French- 
man ;  the  drop  that  makes  the  watchful  stealth  of  the 
Indian  ;  the  drop  that  contains  the  savage  cruelty  of 
the  Zulu  warrior  ;  the  drop  that  gives  the  finesse  of  the 
Italian  ;  the  drop  that  comes  from  the  Corsican  and  makes 
undying  hate  ;  and,  above  all,  one  drop  left  by  one  of 
Morgan's  buccaneers,  that  makes  him  more  dangerous 
than  all  the  other  drops  of  wickedness  in  his  blood,  for 
it  gives  to  him  the  determination  and  the  bulldog  pluck 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

Brute  and  bully  as  this  buccaneer  had  been,  he  left  his 
drop  of  blood  to  flow  in  the  veins  of  this  fantastic  crea- 
ture of  all  nations,  to  make  him  dangerous  ;  because  it 
gave  him  that  unflinching  determination  that  has  carried 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race  to  all  quarters  of  the  world,  and 
made  it  dominant  in  every  one  of  them. 

But  Montez  awakes  with  a  start.  A  merry  voice  is  in 
his  ear,  a  white,  aristocratic  hand  is  held  toward  him  in 
friendly  greeting.  These  belong  to  Alice  Ripley,  who 
with  joy,  hope,  and  happiness  on  her  fair  American  face, 
is  saying  :  "  Seiior  Montez,  our  kind  friend,  you  have 
been  to  the  Pearl  Islands  for  us — another  favor  for  which 
to  thank  you  !  " 

"You  are  now  quite  well  ?  "  he  stammers,  a  little  con- 
fused, though  his  eyes  are  bold  enough  to  linger  over  the 
beautiful  woman,  as  she  stands  before  him,  a  white  muslin 
dress  floating  about  her  graceful  form,  and  some  ribbons 
in  her  golden  hair,  giving  color  to  a  fair  Saxon  face,  that 
is  lighted  up  by  radiant,  happy  violet  eyes. 

*'  Yes — quite  well !  "  she  laughs.  "  So  well,  appetite 
has  returned  to  me.  I  am  impatient  for  breakfast,  which 
kind  Anita  says  is  ready  in  the  tamarind  grove." 

"  You  are — quite  changed — you  are  more  beautiful — " 

"  No,"  she  laughs,  "  more  happy.  I  am  well  once  more 
— my  husband  is  by  my  side.  In  ten  days  I  shall  kiss  my 
daughter.  Am  I  not  a  fortunate  woman  ?  But  break- 
fast. En  ava?it,  George,  and  forward  Montez  !  "  and 
Alice  Ripley  flits  over  the  veranda  towards  the  breakfast 


14  BARON    MONTEZ. 

bower,  made  girlish  by  joy,  and  stands  beside  the  green 
palms  and  red  flowers,  a  picture  that  makes  Senor  Montez's 
eyes  grow  tender,  and  he  would  pity  this  lovely  American 
lady  he  hopes  this  night  to  cut  off  from  husband  and 
friends,  and  home  and  child — but  in  all  the  polyhsema 
drops  that  run  in  his  vile  veins,  there  is  no  drop  of  pity. 

But  there  are  in  his  body,  drops  of  blood  that  carry 
unbounded  passion  and  intense  desire,  and  gazing  on  this 
fair  woman's  blue  eyes,  and  white  skin,  and  graceful  mo- 
bile figure,  his  eyes  grow  misty,  as  he  mutters  :  ''A  rare 
flower  for  Fernando  Gomez  Montez  of  Panama  to  pluck 
— Ah  !  This  is  a  lucky  day  for  the  naughty  boy  of  the 
Isthmus  !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  A  TOBOGA  BREAKFAST    IN   '56." 

Then  this  little  disciple  of  Satan  runs  over  what  has 
brought  him  this  great  chance  of  good  luck.  He  thinks 
of  his  earlier  days. 

He  is  scarce  twenty  now,  but  people  develop  rapidly  un- 
der the  hot  sun  of  the  Equator.  He  remembers  the  quiet 
little  town  of  Cruces,  in  the  mountains — at  the  head  of 
navigation  of  the  Chagres,  where  the  good  priest  taught 
him  his  Faterfiosters,  and  where  he  chanted  them  each  day 
in-  his  class,  mingling  his  Latin  with  howls  produced  by 
blows  of  a  cutting  rawhide  in  the  hands  of  the  padre's 
athletic  and  vigilant  assistant. 

This  mixture  of  penance  and  prayer  pleased  the  young 
Montez  but  little.  His  mother,  who  lived  in  a  palm  hut 
by  the  rapids  of  the  Chagres,  did  ih^  padre  s  washing  ;  his 
father  was — Heaven  knows  where  or  who.  There  seemed 
no  way  of  escape.  They  were  about  to  make  him  an  altar 
boy,  and  rebellious  little  Fernando  cursed  as  he  chanted 
and  saw  no  prospect  save  of  a  life  of  prayer  and  penance, 
and  candle  carrying  behind  a  decorated  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin, in  its  daily  religious  procession  through  the  lanes  of 
the  little  town.  But  just  at  this  moment  Cruces — buried 
from  the  world  in  the  hills  of  the  Cordilleras  in  the 
deadly  slumber  that  had  fallen  upon  the  Isthmus  when 
the  route  to  Chili  and  Peru  round  Cape  Horn  succeeded 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I5 

the  route  via  Panama,  and  the  jingling  bells  of  its  mule 
trains  were  no  longer  heard  crossing  the  mountain  paths 
between  Panama  and  Porta  Bella — awoke  and  lived  again. 

The  first  rush  of  the  gold  seekers  for  California  in  '49 
crossed  the  Isthmus. 

Flying  from  church  and  prayer  and  penance,  young 
Montez  dodged  fasting  and  discipline  in  the  hurly-burly 
of  tii''at  early  Isthmus  excitement. 

At  thirteen  he  peddled  water,  for  ten  cents  a  glass,  to 
thirsty  Gringos.  A  year  after  he  did  a  thriving  business 
in  unripe  bananas,  oranges,  and  pineapples  in  the  streets 
of  Chagres.  Next  taking  up  with  a  monte  shop,  became 
'•^  muchacho  diablo''  in  a  gambling  establishment  at  Gar- 
gona,  where  he  learned  card  sharping  and  thimble  rigging. 
In  the  years  1851,  1852,  and  1853  he  was  a  handler  of  bad 
mules,  which  he  leased  out  at  exorbitant  prices  to  the 
embryo  pioneers  and  argonauts  of  California  to  cross 
worse  roads  from  Gargona  in  the  dry  season,  and  from 
Cruces  in  the  wet  time,  to  Panama. 

Perchance,  he  took  a  flyer  or  two,  with  one  or  two 
successful  bandits,  and  some  looted  treasure  came  to  him. 

He  had  a  knack  of  recovering  lost  children  who  dis- 
appeared together  with  their  native  carriers  in  this  rush 
across  the  Isthmus,  and  restoring  them  to  fond  parents 
for  large  sums  of  money. 

And  during  this  time  he  learned  one  great  principle  that 
has  been  of  much  use  to  Napoleons  of  finance  both  in 
America  and  Europe — that  is,  not  to  steal  often,  but  to 
steal  much.  The  first  invariably  leads  to  disgrace  and  a 
prison — the  second  often  to  honor  and  a  palace. 

While  doing  all  this,  his  facile  mind  became  educated. 
He  picked  up  PVench,  from  some  Parisians  crossing 
the  Isthmus.  Spanish  was  his  native  tongue.  A  smat- 
tering of  Latin  he  had  from  the  priest.  English  came 
to  him  from  his  vocation  with  the  Californian  adven- 
turers ;  and  by  devoting  himself  to  one  or  two  Portuguese, 
who  travelled  tremblingly  across  the  Isthmus  in  those 
days,  he  stole  from  them  a  smattering  of  their  language 
and  any  doubloons  and  Spanish  dollars  they  might  leave 
within  reach  of  his  grasping  paws. 

At  length,  the  railroad  completed  in  1855  destroyed 
young  Montez's  means  of  livelihood  ;  but  by  this  time  he 
had  sufficient  to  engage  in  other  occupations,  and  turned 


l6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

his  attention  to  dealing  in  pearls,  precious  stones,  and 
other  valuables  he  could  pick  up  about  the  Isthmus, 
sometimes  making  trips  to  the  Pearl  Islands,  and  once 
or  twice  going  as  far  as  Ecuador  and  Peru,  upon  the 
English  steamers  that  were  now  running  down  the  coast 
of  South  America,  and  to  Acapulco  to  the  north,  on  the 
Pacific  Mail  boats,  trading  always  with  a  rare  facility  and 
shrewdness  that  had  come  to  him  in  a  drop  of  Yankee 
blood  left  by  a  New  Bedford  whaler  at  Darien  some 
hundred  years  before,  and  by  a  globule  of  the  vital  fluid 
of  Israel,  that  had  entered  his  roly-nation  veins  from  an 
unfortunate  Jewish  pedler  the  Inquisition  had  burned, 
before  the  time  of  Morgan. 

He  was  even  now  considered  well  to  do,  and  his 
orders  were  good  in  the  Hotel  Fran(;a.s  in  Panama,  or 
in  the  restaurant  of  Monsieur  Victor,  t^ie  Isthmus  Del- 
monico  those  days,  but  still  as  yet  no  grand  coup  had 
come  to  him. 

Some  ten  days  before  the  time  he  sits  upon  the  ver- 
anda of  the  villa  on  the  Island  of  Toboga,  the  steamer 
JoJm  L.  Stevens,  from  San  Francisco,  brought  its  lot  of 
passengers  from  California,  to  take  route  across  the 
Isthmus  by  railway  to  Aspinwall,  and  so  on  to  New  York  ; 
among  them  this  American  gentleman  and  his  wife,  who 
are  occupying  the  pretty  pa'"*  cottage  this  morning — 
Ripley  ruddy  in  health,  Ali^^  beautiful  as  a  pale  lily, 
.stricken  with  the  fever  picked  up  during  a  six  hours'  stay 
in  Acapulco,  and  too  ill  to  proceed  on  her  journey.  But 
for  this,  the  American  would  h"ve  been  the  happiest  of 
men,  for  he  was  a  successful  pioneer  to  California. 

George  Merritt  Ripley  had  left  a  clerkship  in  Balti- 
more, and  taken  his  wife  with  him,  leaving  his  little 
daughter  of  twelve  at  school  in  the  East,  and  had  gone 
to  California  in  1852.  He  had  made  his  first  start  in  gold 
mining  in  Calaveras  County,  at  Mokelumne  Hill,  and 
being  sensible  enough  to  see  that  placer  digging  was  un- 
certain, and  that  trade  in  California  at  that  time  was  a 
sure  road  to  wealth,  had  taken  'tis  few  thousand  dollars, 
and  entered  into  business  in  the  thriving  town  of  Stock- 
ton on  the  San  Joaquin.  In  three  years  he  had  accumu- 
lated some  sixty  thousand  dol'ars,  which,  in  those  days 
of  cheap  prices,  large  interest,  and  small  capital,  was  the 
equivalent  to  half  a  million  at  the  present. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 7 

Having  enough  to  live  upon  in  the  East,  his  money 
properly  invested  in  the  growing  towns  of  New  York  or 
Boston  would  in  time  make  him  even  wealthy. 

His  wife,  anxious  to  see  her  child  (for  four  years  is  a 
long  time  to  a  mother's  heart),  had  implored  him  to  return 
to  the  Eastern  States,  which  in  those  days  all  Californians 
caiied  "home." 

So,  though  his  life  on  the  plains  of  the  San  Joaquin 
had  been  a  pleasant  one,  Ripley  was  delighted  to  turn  his 
face  from  the  crudities  of  the  early  California,  to  the 
more  civilized  existence  of  the  Eastern  world. 

He  had  come  on  his  way  rejoicing,  until  the  fever 
struck  the  woman  he  loved,  so  he  had  brought  her  to 
Panama  to  rest  there — perchance  to  die  there. 

His  trunks,  checked  through  to  the  East,  had  gone  on, 
all  save  one  that  contained  their  immediate  necessities  of 
apparel,  and  the  othe}-  one  ;  the  one  that  never  left  his  eye 
— the  heavy  one — the  one  that  took  three  natives  to  handle. 
These,  together  with  his  wife,  were  in  Panama,  when  he 
chanced  to  meet  Montez,  who,  having  many  arts  and 
graces  of  a  gentleman,  had  soon  made  George  Ripley 
think  him  his  friend. 

Montez  had  recommended  the  change  from  the  pesti- 
lent miasma  of  the  mainland  to  the  breezes  that  came 
fresh  up  the  Gulf  to  the  Island  of  Toboga,  and  in  these 
zephyrs,  health  had  come  to  George's  wife,  and  despair 
had  left  the  heart  of  the  strong  man  who  loved  her. 

During  these  days  of  his  wife's  convalescence,  in  one  of 
his  conversations  with  Montez,  Ripley  had  mentioned  a  de- 
sire to  invest  a  little  of  the  gold  he  was  bringing  with  him 
in  the  pearls  of  the  Isthmus — which  were  cheap  at  Panama 
compared  to  New  York.  This  treasure  was  all  in  his  own 
care,  for  Wells  Fargo's  charges  in  these  days,  for  the 
transmission  of  specie,  were  very  high,  and  George  Ripley 
thought  himself  strong  enough  to  take  care  of  his  own 
money,  having  stood  off  bandits  from  his  Mokelumne 
Hill  mine  and  possessing  that  peculiar  self-confidence  that 
seemed  to  come  with  the  air  of  the  Sierras  to  all  Califor- 
nians in  those  early  days.  Therefore  this  foolish  Ripley 
had  evaded  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  charges,  and  had 
everything  he  held  valuable  in  this  world  with  him  in 
Toboga  this  sunny  day — save  his  daughter  in  her  Eastern 
school. 


l8  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Musing  over  this,  Fernando  chuckles  to  himself : 
*'  Brave  Ainericano — fool  Americano  !  " 

Just  here  he  is  awakened  from  his  reverie  by  the  brave 
Americano' s  voice  in  his  ear,  and  the  hearty  grasp  of  the 
fool  Americano's  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  The  voice 
says  :  "  Come  along,  Don  Fernando  Montez  !  We  are 
hungry.  The  odor  of  the  breakfast  is  delicious — but  my 
wife  insists  upon  our  v/aiting  for  our  kind  host."  The 
hand  drags  in  friendly  play  the  petite  carcass  of  Fernando 
Gomez  Montez  to  see  the  prettiest  sight  his  sparkling,  all- 
nation  eyes  have  ever  gazed  upon — the  blonde  beauty  of 
the  temperate  zone  contrasted  with  the  dark  loveliness 
of  the  Equator,  surrounded  by  a  tropic  breakfast  al  fresco. 

It  is  under  the  shade  of  the  tamarind  trees,  the  perfume 
from  which  is  mingled  with  the  odors  of  a  feast  for  the 
gods  ! 

The  aroma  of  Costa  Rica  coffee  just  burnt  and  ground 
comes  from  a  steaming  urn  that  stands  on  the  ground 
near  the  fire  of  perfumed  orange  wood,  upon  which  turtle 
steaks  are  broiling,  and  luscious  plantains  and  mealy  yams 
are  cooking  in  its  ashes.  A  stew  of  rice  and  freshly 
killed  Iguano  lizard,  made  hot  with  Chili  Colorado,  and 
a  slight  suspicion  of  garlic — for  Anita  is  an  artist  in  the 
cooking  line — stands  ready  to  their  hands  ;  and  fruits, 
gorgeous  as  the  sun  that  gave  them  their  ripe  beauty, 
lie  about  them  everywhere. 

The  American  lady,  lazily  seated  in  a  hammock,  looks 
coolly  beautiful  under  the  leaves  that  shade  her — the 
abandon  of  careless  ease  shows  her  still  girlish  figure  in 
graceful  motion.  Her  blue  eyes  would  be  very  bright  this 
morning,  were  they  not  wistful  at  times  when  gazing 
towards  the  East.  Anita  posed  like  a  bronze  statue 
stands  near  the  fire,  her  orbs  sparkling  also,  save  when 
looking  at  la  Americana  they  glow  with  some  unknown 
passion  like  those  of  a  Voodoo  priestess  ! 

So  breakfast  passes,  Anita  the  presiding  goddess  of 
the  feast ;  for  to  this  Indian  girl  all  the  beauty  of  the 
tropics  has  come  in  the  fifteen  years  of  her  life.  She  is 
robed  in  white — some  soft  clinging  Isthmus  stuff,  which 
drapes  her  lithe  figure,  and  displays  the  beauties  of  her 
graceful  limbs  at  every  motion — and  her  little  feet,  bare 
as  when  she  was  born,  step  so  lightly  they  hardly  rustle 
the  leaves  under  them. 


FA  RON    MONTEZ.  I9 

The  girl  flits  about,  ministering  to  the  appetites  of 
Senor  Montez  and  his  guests,  which  seem  to  be  very 
good,  Montez  apparently  being  happy,  and  a  great  joy 
beaming  in  the  eyes  of  the  American.  His  beautiful 
wife  has  roses  on  her  fair  cheeks,  and  in  ten  days  they 
will  be  in  their  Eastern  home;  with  them  the  one  child  of 
their  love.  Health  and  appetite  are  theirs,  and  their 
breakfast  is  almost  like  that  of  Arcady. 

The  coffee  is  of  the  sweetest  aroma,  thelguano  is  done 
to  a  nicety,  and  the  turtle  steaks  are  juicy  as  those 
from  a  two-year-old  buffalo  cow.  These  being  finished, 
they  revel  in  the  fruits  of  the  tropics — oranges  green  as 
an  olive,  thin-skinned  as  a  lady's  glove,  with  one  blood 
red  shot  upon  each,  to  prove  that  it  has  ripened;  melons, 
sweet  limes,  Avigado  pears,  and  the  mangoes  for  which 
Toboga  is  famous. 

As  appetite  is  appeased,  conversation  becomes  easy. 

*'  Why  did  you  not  ask  Anita  to  tell  me  that  I  was 
keeping  you  from  breakfast  ?  It  is  such  a  good  one," 
laughs  the  every-nation  gentleman. 

"  Anita  did  not  seem  to  care  for  your  coming,"  returns 
the  American  lady.  "  Perhaps  she  did  not  think  her 
breakfast  was  as  perfect  as  it  is." 

"  Ah,  Anita  was  sulky,  eh .? "  says  Fernando,  a  little 
mocking  snarl  curling  over  his  white  teeth.  "  Anita  has 
an  Indian  temper  and  Indian  moods."  He  regards  the 
girl  with  a  sneer,  and  she  returns  him  several  flashes  from 
her  eyes,  that  would  be  reproachful,  were  they  not  almost 
vindictive. 

'•  A  little  sullen,  Anita — eh  ? "  jeers  the  host. 

His  tone  would  drive  the  girl  to  frenzy,  did  not  the 
American  hdy  suddenly  say,  "  Please  don't  be  cross  with 
her.  You  do  not  know  how  kind  she  has  been  to  me 
during  your  absence  and  my  sickness  !  "  Then  she  turns 
to  her  husband  and  suggests  :  "  We  must  not  forget 
Anita's  services  when  we  leave  her." 

*'  No,"  cries  the  jovial  Californian.  "  Anita  shall  have 
the  biggest  pearl  that  Montez  has  brought  from  the 
Islands." 

At  this  mention  of  personal  adornment,  a  smile  runs 
over  the  volatile  features  of  the  Indian  girl. 

Fernando  smiles  also.  What  is  Anita's  is  his.  And 
everything  is  fish  that  comes  to  his  net. 


20  BARON    MONTEZ. 

A  second  after,  he  gives  a  start.  The  American  lady 
is  remarking  in  grateful  tones  :  *'  And  what  shall  our  of- 
fering be  to  you,  Senor  Montez,  whose  hospitality  has 
given  me  health  ? " 

"A  present  for  me  ?     Miamadre!  you  are  too  kind." 

''  Yes,  mention  what  you  like  and  you  have  it,  "  inter- 
jects the  CaHfornian. 

"  Oh,  if  you  wish  me  to  say  what  I  should  regard  with 
the  greatest  favor,  it  would  be  your — your  beautiful  re- 
volver. There  is  none  like  it  on  the  Isthmus, — none 
that  shoots  so  truly,  for  I  have  seen  your  skill  with  it," 
answers  Fernando,  looking  with  longing  eyes  upon  the 
fatal  weapon  of  the  American. 

"  My  revolver,"  echoes  the  CaHfornian  with  a  start. 
Then  he  says,  after  a  pause  of  consideration  :  "  I  will 
send  it  to  you  by  express  from  New  York.  Until  this 
journey  is  over,  I  cannot  part  with  it.  It  has  guarded 
my  life  and  my  property  before.  I  feel  safer  with  it  by 
my  side." 

"  Yes,"  returns  Alice,  "  at  his  side  by  day,  near  his 
hand  at  night.  George  is  superstitious,  I  think,  with  re- 
gard to  it." 

This  conversation  apparently  does  not  please  Sefior 
Montez  very  greatly.  The  revolver  has  seemed  to 
fascinate  him.  All  through  the  meal  his  glances  have 
sought  the  long  Colt's  pistol  that  carries  six  lives  in  its 
six  loaded  chambers  as  it  hangs  in  the  Californian's  belt, 
A  little  spheroid  of  timid  Cingales  blood,  poured  into  his 
veins  from  some  East  Indian  ancestor,  now  brings  a 
coward  faltering  into  his  bright  eyes.  He  does  not  seem 
to  enjoy  the  Avigado  pear  that  he  was  eating  with  a  good 
appetite  a  second  before.  Throwing  it  away  with  a 
"pish  "  of  disgust,  he  cries  :  "Anita,  quick,  a  cigar  I"  for 
nicotine  soothes  this  gentleman's  excitable  nerves. 

The  Indian  girl,  at  his  command,  draws  out  from  a 
bundle  of  fragrant  Toboga  tobacco  a  fresh  leaf,  and  roll- 
ing it  in  her  deft  and  agile  fingers,  in  half  a  minute  it 
becomes  a  cigar.  Thirty  seconds  more,  a  second  leaf  be- 
comes another  cigar.  This  she  offers  to  the  American, 
who  follows  his  host's  example.  So  lighting  up,  the  two 
men  puff  away  contentedly. 

A  moment  after,  Alice  gives  a  start  of  amazement,  for  a 
third  cigar  has  been  tendered  to  her,  and  to  her  aston- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  21 

ished  refusal,  Anita  laughs  :  "  You  are  not  well  enough 
yet  to  smoke.  I  had  supposed  now  you  are  ill  no  longer 
you  would  enjoy  it  as  I  do."  Then  throwing  herself  into 
a  hammock,  this  lazy  bird  of  the  tropic  surrounds  herself 
wi{^i  wreaths  of  smoke,  puffing  them  out  between  her 
white  teeth,  and  playing  with  them  as  a  juggler  does  with 
his  baubles. 

The  sensuous  scene  appeals  to  even  the  energetic  Cali- 
fornian's  senses.  He  mutters:  "  This  week  at  Toboga 
has  seemed  like  a  week  of — of " 

"  Of  paradise  !  "  interjects  his  wife.  "  Since  I  have 
become  well  again,  we  have  made  a  fairy  land  of  it. 
Daytime  in  the  hammock,  sipping  coccanut  milk  and 
chicha  under  the  tamarind  leaves  ;  dinners  at  Jacques' 
petite  restaurant  in  the  cocoanut  trees,  and  moonlight 
in  a  canoe  on  the  water.  George  said,"  here  the  lady 
blushes  slightly,  gazing  at  her  husband  with  bride's  eyes, 
*'  that  it  was  more  romantic  than  our  wedding  tour." 

"  A-ah,  a — neiv  honeymoon  !  "  sighs  Montez.  Look- 
ing at  the  beauty  of  this  Northern  violet,  as  she  sits 
before  him  in  the  ease  of  this  tropic  Arcady — for  Alice 
Ripley  has  imitated  Seiiorita  Anita  in  the  hammock 
business,  and  sits  lazily  under  the  green  leaves,  one 
perfect  ifoot  and  one  delicate  ankle  carelessly  swinging 
from  under  her  white  laces  and  muslin  and  ribbons — 
this  gentleman's  face  suddenly  flushes  with  a  great 
delight,  as  he  thinks  :  "  A  new  honeymoon  ! — Yes — 
for  ?ne  f  "  Then  visions  come  to  him,  entrancing  as  the 
dreams  of  opium  sleep,  as  he  gazes  at  Alice  Ripley 
through  the  clouds  of  his  cigar  smoke. 

Mingled  with  the  rustling  breezes  in  the  tamarind 
groves,  as  they  sit  there,  the  "silence — of — the — smoker  " 
coming  on  them,  is  heard  the  voice  of  a  rushing  stream, 
which  issues  gurgling  and  foaming  fiom  the  hill-side, 
and  splashes  into  a  little  basin,  a  short  hundred  yards 
away,  suggesting  coolness. 

The  day  is  already  burning,  and  the  noise  of  this  foam- 
ing stream  apparently  puts  an  idea  into  the  fertile  mind 
of  little  Montez,  as  he  sits  looking  with  sleepless  eyes  at 
the  big  Californian,  through  his  wreaths  of  smoke. 

He  says :  "  How  is  a  cool  plunge  this  hot  morning? 
Why  not  a  bath,  Serior  Georgio  Ripley  ?  " 

"  A  bath — delicious  !  "  ejaculates  the  American.     Then 


22  BARON    MONTEZ. 

looking  over  the  green  water  of  the  bay,  he  suggests, 
"  But  the  sharks  !  " 

"  No  sharks  here,"  and  Fernando  points  with  a  little 
finger,  adorned  with  some  diamonds  and  a  very  delicately 
trimmed  almond-shaped  nail,  to  the  cool,  limpid  basin 
worn  in  the  rock  by  the  unceasing  flow  of  the  living 
stream  for  centuries.     "That  is  nature's  bathing  place." 

So  the  two  go  off  together,  through  the  thickets  to  the 
shady  pool,  bearing  with  them  handfuls  of  javoncilla 
leaves,  that  will  act  as  vegetable  soap  and  make  their 
skins  soft  as  those  of  children. 

Looking  on  its  limpid  waters,  dark  under  the  palms  and 
only  golden  where  the  sun  steals  in  upon  it  through  little 
breaks  in  the  leaves,  the  American  mutters  :  "  This  is 
perfection." 

Then  Montez  cries,  "  Quick,  I'll  beat  you  into  the  water. 
You  need  not  fear  to  undress  here.  Toboga  has  no 
deadly  lance-vipers  or  coral  snakes  like  the  mainland." 

So  undressing  himself  in  the  little  thicket  of  broad- 
leaved  palms  and  feathery  bamboos,  George  Merritt 
Ripley,  as  he  takes  his  plunge  into  nature's  bath-tub,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  journey  really  parts  himself  from  his 
revolver. 

It  is  but  for  a  short  fifteen  minutes,  and  Montez  bathes 
with  him  ten  of  them,  but  leaves  the  water  y^rj-/. 

But  in  that  five  minutes,  that  one  last  plunge  for  Ripley, 
something  has  happened  to  his  weapon  of  trust  that 
had  saved  his  life  and  his  treasure  from  the  bandits 
of  the  Sierras  and  the  highwaymen  of  the  Californian 
trails. 

Not  knowing  this,  George  comes  laughingly  up  the 
bank,  crying,  "  That  last  plunge  was  the  most  refreshing 
of  my  life  !  I  hope  you  enjoyed  your  bath  as  v.^ell  as  I 
did,  Seiior  Montez." 

"  Perhaps  better,"  returns  his  companion,  who  has  as 
yet  hardly  begun  to  dress.  Fernando  is  apparently  a  lazy 
man,  and  he  has  had  something  to  occupy  him,  and  a 
little  file  that  he  has  brought  with  him,  during  the  five 
minutes  of  Ripley's  last  plunge. 

From  now  on,  a  confident  air  seems  to  come  over  this 
every  nation  gentleman  ;  and  when  his  eyes  look  at  the 
revolver  which  the  American  is  strapping  around  him 
again,  they  no  longer  shrink  from  it,  but  gaze  at  it  in 


BAKON    MONTEZ.  23 

confident  triumph.  So,  walking  up  the  path  to  the  tama- 
rind grove  and  bamboo  cottage,  Fernando  chuckles  to 
himself  :  "  I  am  sure  now — treasure  and  beauty.  " 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE  RAILROAD  STATION  AT  PANAMA, 

On  the  veranda  once  more,  George  Ripley  suggests  : 
"  Would  you  mind  showing  us  your  pearls  ?  My  wife 
is  anxious  to  see  your  jewels,  and  we  must  be  soon 
getting  under  way  for  the  mainland." 

"Yes,  the  Illinois  arrived  this  morning  at  Aspin- 
wall,"  returns  Montez.  "  Her  passengers  will  soon  reach 
Panama.  Soon  there  will  be  a  Pacific  Mail  steamship 
in  the  bay.  The  Golden  Age  from  San  Francisco  is  one 
day  overdue.  When  she  comes  in,  her  passengers  will 
be  moved  eastward  rapidly.  If  you  are  not  at  the  rail- 
way station  you  may  be  left  to  spend  ten  days  more  with 
us.  That  would  please  me,  mi  amigo ;  but  you — you 
are  an  American,  and  in  a  hurry.  You  do  not  enjoy 
life.     You  fly  through  it." 

"  And  you  dream  through  it,  I  imagine,  Sefior  Montez," 
laughs  Alice,  coming  on  the  veranda  to  meet  the  return- 
ing bathers.  Then  she  says  archly,  '■'•  Dream  no  more  ; 
show  us  your  pearls,  and  become  a  man  of  business.  " 

"  That  I  will !  "  cries  Montez,  as  he  displays  his  jewels, 
and  descants  on  the  beauties  of  the  large  pink  pearl  he 
has,  and  the  perfection  of  the  white  ones  he  holds  caress- 
ingly in  his  hands,  with  the  vehemence  and  volubility  of 
an  Armenian  in  the  bazaar  at  Constantinople,  and  the 
shrewdness  of  a  Hebrew  pawn-broker  in  Seven  Dials*. 

Fernando's  trading  powers,  however,  are  thrown  away  ; 
for  the  American  takes  all  the  pearls  at  the  seller's  own 
prices,  which  though  exorbitant  for  Panama,  are  cheap 
for  New  York. 

"  Come  in  and  get  our  business  over,''  says  George  ; 
and  Montez  following  him  and  Alice  into  the  bamboo 
cottage,  the  affair  is  completed.  Opening  a  large  buck- 
skin bag,  that  is  part  of  his  belt,  after  the  manner  of 
early  Californians,  Ripley  makes  payment  in  gold-dust  ; 


24  BARON    MONTEZ. 

for  at  that  time  gold  was  plenty,  though  coin  was  scarce, 
in  the  Western  world. 

Upon  this  yellow  dross,  Fernando's  eyes  linger  lovingly, 
and  from  it  roam  gloatingly  to  the  heavy  iron-bound 
trunk  of  the  Californian,  and  turning  from  this  to  the 
beautiful  Americana^  who  was  thrown  her  pearls  in  a  string 
of  white  radiance  around  her  fair  white  neck,  his  glance 
becomes  more  longing  than  ever. 

Here  George  laughingly  suggests  :  "  Montez,  you  think 
jewels  become  her?  Alice  should  have  had  these  pearls 
when  she  stood  in  Edouart's  gallery  in  Washington  Street, 
San  Francisco,  and  had  this  taken,"  producing  from  his 
pocket  a  tintype  of  his  wife,  a  style  of  picture  just  come 
into  fashion. 

"  Yes,  I  had  two  of  them  taken  ;  one  for  my  husband, 
the  other  for  my  daughter  ;  Mary's  was  sent  to  her  two 
months  ago.  It  will  remind  her  of  my  coming,"  replies 
the  lady  ;  then  blushes  a  little,  for  Montez,  in  his  native 
way,  has  cried  out  :  "^/^,  Dios  !  It  is  celestial — but  the 
sun  has  not  done  you  justice,  Senora  Ripley  !  " 

The  sun,  however,  has  done  very  well,  and  the  tintype 
has  the  blue  eyes  and  fair  hair  of  this  charming  American. 

So  charming,  Montez  fears  to  stay  ;  his  passion  may 
betray  itself.  He  mutters,  "  I  will  go  and  engage  your 
boat,  Senor  Ripley." 

"  Yes  !  Get  a  safe  one,  I  don't  care  for  speed.  Some- 
thing there  is  no  chance  of  capsizing,"  calls  the  Califor- 
nian after  him. 

"  I  will  be  sure  of  that  for  my  own  sake,  as  well  as 
yours,"  cries  back  the  little  gentleman,  as  he  glides  down 
the  pathway,  brushing  with  a  bamboo  switch  the  dust 
from  his  patent  leather  boots. 

At  the  white  glistening  beach  he  selects  carefully  a 
boat,  and  is  delighted  to  find  among  its  crew  a  swarthy 
boatman,  who  is  called  Domingo. 

Addressing  him  familiarly,  and  slapping  him  on  the 
back,  Montez  says  in  his  ear  :  *'  Old  bravo,  are  you  still 
up  to  banditti  work  as  in  '52,  on  the  Cruces  roads  ?  " 

To  this,  Domingo,  a  gentleman  with  a  pirate  counte- 
nance adorned  by  two  fearful  scars,  with  a  stalwart  black 
frame,  and  a  stout  black  heart  beating  in  his  black  body, 
replies  :  "  Si,  Senor^  mouches  dinero^  mouches  sanguis 
mouches  Domingo." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  25 

So  Fernando  knows  he  has  at  his  hand,  for  this  night's 
work,  a  man  who  will  not  be  turned  back  for  pity,  nor 
blood,  nor  danger,  from  doing  any  wickedness  that  may 
come  to  his  hand. 

While  this  has  been  taking  place  on  the  beach,  Ripley 
and  his  wife,  during  hurried  preparations  for  their  de- 
parture, are  holding  a  conversation  that  makes  the 
Californian  open  his  honest  eyes  in  astonishment. 

His  wife  says  to  him,  under  her  breath  :  "  Now  that 
Montez  is  away,  I  wish  to  tell  you  something  :  I  am  glad 
we  are  going  !  " 

"  Of  course  !  To-morrow  we  will  be  one  day  nearer 
our  daughter." 

"  It  is  not  entirely  that,"  whispers  the  lady,  nervously, 
"but  I  fear  to  stay  here." 

'^  Why  ? " 

"  Anita  hates  me." 

"  Impossible  !  No  one  could  have  nursed  you  more 
faithfully  during  the  fever,  than  the  bright-eyed  Indian 
girl." 

"  It  is  her  bright  eyes  that  make  me  fear  her.  Some- 
thing new  has  come  into  them.  Besides  that,  while  you 
were  taking  your  bath  she  told  me  that  we  had  better  go 
away  as  soon  as  possible.     She  told  me " 

"Well,  what?"  says  the  American  impatiently. 

"  Only — that — if  the  fever  returned  to  me  here — I 
would  not  throw  it  off  again.  Toboga  breezes  are  good 
for  the  first  attack, — but  after  that, — like  other  medicines, 
— they  lose  their  value." 

While  she  says  this  in  a  hesitating,  disjointed  manner, 
a  bright  red  flush  has  come  over  the  features  of  the 
beautiful  American  lady,  for  Alice  Ripley  is  telling  her 
husband  her  first  falsehood. 

Anita's  words  had  been  to  her  :  "  Beware  of  Montez  ! 
Montez  loves  you  !  "  and  suspicion  coming  to  her  quick 
feminine  mind  at  these  words,  Alice  had  noted  some  of 
the  uncanny  glances  the  polyhsema  gentleman  at  times 
could  not  restrain  himself  from  indulging  in.  But  at  the 
last  moment,  even  when  warning  was  on  her  lips,  she 
has  hesitated  to  tell  her  husband  what  she  has  heard  and 
suspects — because  the  very  thought  of  the  thing  brings 
blushing  shame  upon  her. 

So  the  modesty  of  this  beautiful  woman  takes  from  her 


26  BARON    MONTEZ. 

husband  one  of  his  ropes  of  safety  this  day — his  one 
chance  of  suspecting  the  man  he  thinks  his  friend,  but 
who  is  even  now  bent  upon  his  robbery  and  ruin. 

"  Well,  let  us  give  Anita  her  pearl— perhaps  that  will 
reconcile  her  to  our  going  away,"  laughs  the  Californian. 

This  being  done,  they  leave  the  palm-thatched  bamboo 
villa,  and  come  down  the  little  rocky  pathway  to  the 
beach  at  Toboga,  to  take  departure  for  Panama. 

Three  stalwart  natives  carry  the  iron-bound  trunk,  and 
find  it  all  they  can  handle  ;  another  swings  easily  the 
lighter  one  that  contains  the  wardrobe  of  George  Ripley 
and  his  wife. 

l>ooking  around,  Montez  is  happy  ;  for  there  is  only  a 
steamer  of  the  ICnglish  Steam  Navigation  Company  in 
the  harbor,  one  or  two  trading  brigs  and  schooners,  and 
the  Columbus  just  returned  from  her  voyage  to  the  Islas 
de  las  Perks,  and  no  vessels  of  war  of  any  nation.  No 
blue  jackets  can  be  landed  to  interfere  with  a  plan  that 
he  has  already  set  on  foot  among  the  desperate  native 
classes  of  the  town  of  Panama  this  fifteenth  day  of  April, 
1856. 

Toboga  is  slumbering  in  the  mid-day  sun,  as  they 
stand  upon  the  sandy  beach.  A  lazy  steward  from  the 
English  steamer  is  buying  fish  and  fruit  from  a  big 
Indian  hofigo  that  has  come  from  a  neighboring  island. 
There  is  a  drowsy  hum  from  a  few  bamboo  huts,  and 
pine  board  edifices  that  do  duty  as  shops,  and  ship 
chandlers'  stores,  for  this  Island  of  '1  oboga  is  really  the 
port  of  Panama,  as  the  depth  of  water  permits  vessels  to 
lie  there  at  all  times ;  while  off  the  mainland,  the  tre- 
mendous rise  and  fall  of  the  ocean  compels  ships  of 
burden  to  keep  three  or  four  miles  out  in  the  bay. 

"  I  am  glad  you  got  a  good,  big,  safe  boat,"  remarks 
the  Californian,  "  and  I  hope  competent  boatmen." 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  arranged.  On  board,  mi  amigo^''  cries 
Montez,  offering  a  gallant  hand  to  assist  the  pretty 
Americana. 

But  what  the  Indian  girl  has  said  to  her  makes  this 
lady  blind  to  his  attentions,  and  she  carelessly  and  lightly 
steps  over  the  gunwale  of  the  boat,  and  tripping  to  its 
stern,  takes  seat  under  its  awning  of  many  colors,  ignor- 
ing the  gentleman  whose  eyes  follow  her,  an  unknown 
suspicion  m  them. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  27 

A  moment  after,  they  are  under  way,  black  Domingo 
pulling  a  strong  stroke  oar,  and  three  lithe  natives  keep- 
ing'time  with  him,  and  dashing  foam  that  looks  like  pearls 
and  diamonds  from  the  water,  as  they  glide  over  this 
aquarium,  in  which  Alice  looking  down  sees  countless  fish. 

As  they  move,  she  carelessly  drops  a  dainty  hand 
into  the  cool  water,  playing  with  its  ripples.  The  next 
instant  Montez  quietly  takes  it  in  his  and  replaces  it  in 
the  boat. 

Perchance,  unable  to  control  himself,  he  has  given 
its  delicate  fingers  a  tender  pressure,  for  the  lady's  face 
grows  angry. 

*'  Would  you  like  to  leave  your  arm  in  that  fellow's 
maw  ? "  is  Fernando's  reply  to  her  indignant  glance,  and 
he  points  to  a  huge  white  shark  that  is  lazily  patrolling 
the  water  a  cable's  length  or  so  from  the  English 
steamer's  stern. 

Following  his  gesture  with  their  eyes,  the  crew  start 
and  Domingo  mutters  :  "  Diablo  I     Toboga  Bill  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  gentleman  !  "  laughs  Montez.  "  This 
desperado  has  just  come  up  after  the  Peruvian  steamer 
from  a  trip  down  the  coast  to  Callao." 

"  So  that  is  the  terror  of  Panama  P)ay  ? "  queries 
George,  turning  his  eyes  upon  the  great  fish,  who  is  as 
long  as  a  ship's  cutter,  and  whose  dorsal  fin  makes  a  big 
swash  of  foam  with  every  movement. 

"  Yes  !  There  will  be  one  or  two  less  native  boatmen, 
perhaps,  before  he  leaves  harbor  !  "  returns  Montez. 
Then  he  suddenly  cries  :  "  For  your  life,  No  !  "  and 
places  a  deterring  hs^nd  upon  the  Californian's  pistol, 
for  Ripley  is  about  to  draw  it. 

"  There  is  no  danger  in  this  big  boat.  Let  me  have  a 
pop  at  the  desperado,"  says  George,  still  fingering  his 
ready  revolver  . 

"  No,  no  !  Your  wife  is  here.  He  might  charge  the 
boat.  He  has  upset  canoes  !  Don't  use  your  pistol  !  " 
murmurs  the  little  every-nation  rascal,  his  lips  trembling 
and  growing  white. 

"  If  he  is  so  awful — don't  shoot  at  him  !  "  gasps  Alice 
to  her  husband. 

"  If  you  tremble,  of  course  not !  "  says  the  American, 
returning  his  revolver  to  his  belt.  ''Though  I  had  im- 
agined Montez  had  better  nerves." 


28  BARON    MONTEZ, 

This  idea  is  that  of  the  boatmen  ;  for  one  of  them  says 
in  Spanish  to  his  fellow  :  "  Caramba  !  I  never  saw  the 
muchacho  diablo  tremble  before — at  a  shark,  too  !  " 

But  Domin^^o  knows  his  old  master  better,  and 
chuckles  to  himself  :  '•  What  was  there  about  that 
pistol  of  the  Americano  that  Fernando  did  not  wish  him 
to  use  it  ?  Ah  !  It  has  been  tampered  with.  This  man 
and  this  woman  are  to  be  our  prey."  And  from  now  on, 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  grow  blood-shot  when  they  look 
on  the  Californian  and  his  fair-haired  wife. 

As  they  leave  "Toboga  Bill  "  behind  them,  fear  seems 
to  depart  from  Montez  ;  he  regains  his  spirits,  but  when- 
ever a  stray  gull  offers  a  tempting  shot  he  looks  nervous  ; 
perchance  Ripley  will  test  his  pistol. 

Three  hours  after,  they  make  the  landing  at  Panama, 
having  been  assisted  by  the  incoming  tide,  which  has 
just  turned,  and  is  here  tremendous. 

They  come  to  the  end  of  the  long  wharf  of  the  rail- 
road, finding  there  a  little  light-draft  iron  steamboat — 
the  Toboga — used  in  transferring  passengers  and  mail 
to  the  great  Pacific  steamers  that  cannot  come  nearer 
than  three  miles  of  the  town.  Not  six  inches  of  water  is 
under  the  Toboga's  keel.  It  must  wait  for  the  incoming 
tide  to  free  it,  and  make  it  float  again,  which  will  be 
somewhere  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  this  evening. 

Clambering  upon  this  wharf,  which  rises  at  this  stage 
of  the  tide  quite  high  above  the  boat,  Montez  and  Ripley 
assist  the  American  lady,  who  soon  stands  beside  them. 

"  There  will  probably  be  no  train  for  Aspinwall  before 
to-morrow  morning.  I  think  we  Jiad  better  go  to  one 
of  the  hotels  in  the  main  town.  It  will  be  more  com- 
fortable," remarks  Ripley. 

"  Very  well,"  answers  Montez,  a  shade  of  disappoint- 
ment crossing  his  face,  ''  the  Hotel  Frangais.  But  what 
will  you  do  with  your  trunk — the  heavy  fellow  ?  It  seems 
all  that  the  three  boatmen  can  manage." 

"  Of  course,  George,  they  can  never  carry  it  into  the 
town  in  this  hot  sun,"  remarks  Alice,  who,  having  hoisted 
a  dainty  parasol  over  her  head,  stands  watching  the  men. 

''  Let  me  suggest  the  Pacific  House,"  returns  Fernando, 
pointing  to  a  white  board  hotel  just  across  the  road  from 
the  station.  "  It  is  but  a  step  for  your  wife — and  your 
trunk." 


bARON    MONTEZ.  29 

To  this  proposition  George  assents,  and  they  walk  up 
the  wharf,  followed  by  three  of  the  boatmen,  who  struggle 
under  the  heavy  iron-bound  chest,  upon  which  the  Caii- 
fornian,  turning  ever  and  anon,  casts  a  wary  glance.  Be- 
hind them  tramps  old  Domingo,  slinging  easily  upon  his 
stalwart  shoulder  the  light  trunk  containing  the  wardrobe 
of  the  Californian,  which  does  not  soem  to  interest  Ripley 
at  all. 

Walking  along  the  tracks  of  the  Panama  road,  which 
run  upon  this  wharf,  they  soon  come  to  dusty  terra  firnia^ 
and  find  themselves  in  quite  a  crowd  of  passengers  from 
the  Illinois^  which  has  landed  them  at  Aspinwall,  on 
the  Atlantic  side  of  the  Isthmus,  some  few  hours  before. 
These  are  making  their  preparations  for  departure,  some 
of  them  checking  their  baggage,  and  others  having  their 
tickets  examined  ;  a  few,  even  now  (fortunately  for  them- 
selves), are  taking  their  families  on  board  the  Toboga^ 
as  the  Golden  Age,  the  incoming  Pacific  Mail  steamer,  has 
been  sighted. 

Hearing  this,  Montez  whispers  to  the  Californian  : 
"  The  train  for  Aspinwall  will  be  sure  to  leave  early  in 
the  morning.  The  Pacific  House  is  the  one  for  you, 
it  is  so  near  the  railroad  depot." 

So  they  pass  in,  and  registering  their  names  with 
McFarlane,  the  proprietor,  soon  find  themselves  in  a  little 
room  on  the  eastern,  and  now  shady,  side  of  the  house, 
for  the  sun  is  already  declining  in  the  heavens. 

This  chamber  is  one  flight  up,  retired  and  quiet  as  any 
room  can  be  in  a  house  m^ade  of  thin  boards  with  parti- 
tions of  canvas  and  paper.  To  this  the  three  natives 
stagger  with  the  heavy  trunk,  Domingo  accompanying 
them  with  the  lighter  one. 

Here  Montez  says  to  the  American,  *'  jiu  rcvoir  !  "  but 
while  doing  this,  suggests  :  "  Won't  you  take  a  stroll  with 
me  into  the  town  ?  You  will  find  lots  of  the  passengers 
who  are  bound  for  California,  seeing  the  sights.  Why 
not  make  an  evening  of  it  with  me  ?  Dinner  at  the  Cafk 
Victor,  and  then,  I  believe,  we  have  a  circus  in  town 
to-night." 

"  That  would  be  delightful  !  "  cries  Alice.  A  moment 
after,  she  says  thoughtfully,  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  am  too 
fatigued  for  it." 

*' No  thank  you,  Montez,  old  boy,". answers  George. 


3©  BARON    MONTEZL 

**  I  think  I'll  stay  here  with  my  baggage  and  my  tired 
wife." 

"  Then  au  revoir  a-gain  !  "  murmurs  Fernando,  and  turns 
to  go,  but  the  Californian  comes  after  him,  and  seizing 
his  little  fingers  in  his  stalwart  grip,  says  gratefully  ; 
"  This  must  not  be  the  last  we  shall  see  of  you  ! 
Promise  to  come  back  here  this  evening.  My  wife  and  I 
must  thank  you  again  for  your  hospitality,  and  what  you 
have  done  for  us.  I'll  not  forget  to  express  the  revolver 
to  you  from  New  York." 

"  Oh,  do  not  fear — I'll  return  to  you  !  "  answers 
Montez,  the  Armenian  drop  in  his  blood  coming  to  the 
fore,  and  giving  his  eyes  a  far-seeing,  peculiar,  subtle 
look.  "  Until  this  evening ! "  and  whispering  these 
words,  he  skips  down  the  steps,  giving  one  last  longing 
parting  glance  at  the  fair  American  lady,  who  makes  a 
pretty  picture,  her  bright  beauty  being  in  strong  contrast 
to  the  bareness  of  the  room,  as  she  carelessly  sits  upon  the 
iron-bound  trunk.  Thus  grouped  these  two  treasures  of 
the  American  look  very  beautiful  to  Senor  Montez — they 
are  now,  he  thinks,  so  nearly  his. 

As  he  reaches  the  doorway  of  the  hotel  he  suddenly 
starts  and  says  :  '•  But  I  have  much  to  do  !  "  and  so 
passes  rapidly  out  of  the  Pacific  House,  where  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  drinking  going  on,  and  many  glasses  are 
being  emptied  to  the  first  sight  of  the  Pacific,  by  passen- 
gers eager  to  reach  the  land  of  gold. 

Left  together  Ripleyturns  to  Alice,  saying:  ''  It  looks  as 
if  you  would  have  a  dull  time,  little  woman,  till  to-morrow 
morning  when  we  get  upon  the  railroad  for  Aspinwall." 

''Oh,  I'll  pass  a  little  of  it  writing  to  Mary." 

"  Why,  the  child'll  see  us  as  soon  as  the  letter  !  " 

"Not  quite.  We'll  have  to  remain  a  day  in  New 
York  probably.  The  letter  will  go  right  on.  I'll  tell 
her  of  our  week  in  Totoga,"  returns  the  lady,  taking 
from  her  trunk  the  articles  for  a  hasty  epistle.  "  Had 
you  not  better  see  about  our  tickets  ? " 

"  They'll  do  in  the  morning,"  replies  the  gentleman 
who  is  looking  out  of  the  hotel  window.  "  Besides,  the 
crowd  bound  for  California  are  giving  the  railroad 
officials  all  they  want  to  attend  to  just  now."  And 
(}eorge  amuses  himself  inspecting  the  movements  of  the 
throng  outside  as  the  sun  goes  down  upon  Panama. 


BAROX    MONTEZ.  3I 

After  a  little,  his  wife  closes  an  epistle  full  of  a  mother's 
love  to  her  absent  dear  one,  telling  her  the  day  after  she 
receives  it  she  will  be  in  her  arms,  and  says,  "  George, 
just  step  down  and  put  this  in  the  mail  at  the  railroad 
depot,  before  you  forget  as  usual." 

*'  Then  the  usual  bribe,"  laughs  her  husband. 

"  Two,  if  you  like,"  and  the  lady's  lips  receive  his 
kisses,  for  these  two  are  as  much  lovers  as  when  they 
first  became  man  and  wife. 

"  Now  hurry.  For  Mr.  McFarlane's  gong  is  going  to 
sound  for  dinner  soon,"  cries  Alice. 

So  George  Ripley  goes  down  and  posts  the  letter  to 
Mary,  his  daughter,  putting  it  in  the  strong  grip  of  Wells, 
Fargo  &  Co.,  but  does  not  come  back  to  dinner  with  his 
wife — for  this  is  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  day  of  April, 
1856 — a  night  that  at  Panama  severed  husbands  from 
wives  and  parted  children  from  parents'  love. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

WHAT     THE     MOON     SAW     IN     PANAMA. 

MoNTEZ,  after  gliding  through  the  crowd  about  the 
railroad  station,  joins  Domingo,  who  has  been  waiting 
for  him,  and  the  two  stroll  together  along  the  dusty  lane 
leading  to  the  Cuinago,  a  quarter  of  the  city  composed 
of  vermin,  filth  and  native  huts,  in  which  the  lower  orders 
of  this  town  of  Panama  make  their  habitat. 

"  You  half  understand  my  design,  my  worthy  old  des- 
perado," murmurs  Montez. 

^'  Si,  Capitano  fnio,"  returns  the  swarthier  and  more  stal- 
wart bandit. 

"Then  I  will  explain  the  rest  to  you.  Listen  !  "  and 
Fernando  hastily  outlines  a  plan,  which  makes  the  other 
grind  his  teeth  together  in  a  wild  kind  of  unholy  chuckle. 
'^Diablo  I  This  will  be  a  better  night  than  any  one  of 
the  wild  days  of  my  youth  I  "  and  Domingo  had  once 
been  a  ship's  boy  with  Lafitte,  the  last  pirate  of  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico. 

"  Yes — it  will  ht—finej''  laughs  the  other.  ''There  are 
women   and  children  among  this  crowd  of  passengers. 


32  BARON    MONTEZ. 

These  people  are  not  like  the  adventurers  of  '49.  They 
are  going  to  be  California  farmers,  not  miners.  Few  of 
them  carry  a  revolver  ;  fewer  still  know  how  to  use  it." 

"  But  your  American  friend  bears  a  very  large  one." 

"Yes,  and  is  a  dead  shot  ;  but  that  is  arranged,"  says 
Montez. 

"Ah,  trust  e/  i?iuchacho  diablo  !''  laughs  Domingo,  look- 
ing in  admiration  at  his  little  mentor.  Then  he  says 
suddenly  :  "  But  the  plan  you  have  mentioned,  will  take 
much  time.     The  natives  must  be  aroused." 

"  It  is  almost  arranged  now.  You  have  but  very  little 
to  do.  The  keg  of  powder  I  have  ordered  is  already  in 
those  huts.  You  see  our  savage  boatmen  and  muleteers 
are  prepared  to  use  it,"  and  Montez  points  to  the  crowd 
of  excited  Indians,  sambos,  mulattos,  negroes,  Spanish 
gypsies,  and  every  other  vile  race  of  the  Isthmus,  who  are 
stimulating  themselves  in  the  streets  of  the  native  quarter 
with  aguardiente  for  some  work  they  have  on  hand,  and 
are  even  now  nearly  all  armed  with  old  muskets,  machetes^ 
or  pistols. 

Looking  upon  this,  Domingo  says :  "  That  little 
steamer,"  pointing  to  the  Toboga,  whose  smoke-stack  is 
still  visible  at  the  end  of  the  wharf,  "  has  taken  away 
their  livelihood  from  the  honest  barqueros  here,  by  trans- 
ferring the  passengers  that  were  their  customers.  Their 
hatred  will  be  an  assistance  to  us.  Besides,  the  railroad 
has  ruined  our  mulateros — they  will  not  be  backward." 

"  Not  with  American  plunder  in  sight,"  laughs  Montez. 
"  But  they  will  need  a  leader — Domingo,  you  are  the  man 
for  that  kind  of  thing  :  you  like  blood  !" 

"Ah,  but,  demonios !  we  have  forgotten  the  police  I  " 

"  We  have  not  forgotten  anything  !  "  replies  the  brighter 
scoundrel.  "The  police  are  arranged  for;  the  gover- 
nor, I  think,  is  arranged  for  also.  A  Dios  till  six  o'clock  ! 
Do  your  work  here  ;  I  will  do  mine  in  the  town  !  Remem- 
ber at  six — the  railroad  station.  There  Montez  will  make 
his  start  in  life." 

Leaving  Domingo  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  his  old 
cronies  and  chums,  whom  he  will  excite  with  strong  pul- 
que and  bad  aguardiente^  Montez,  turning  away  from  the 
native  quarter,  strolls  through  the  Gargona  gate,  along 
the  Calle  de  la  Merced^  into  the  middle  of  the  old  town 
of  Panama. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  33 

Here  he  sees  many  of  the  passengers  of  the  Illinois, 
who^^re  buying  jewelry  of  Choco  gold  and  Panama  pearls, 
sombreros  de  Guayaquil,  and  bright-hued  stuffs,  to  take 
with  them  to  California. 

The  sun  is  going  down  rapidly,  flaming  lanterns  are 
beginning  to  appear  in  the  shops  ;  a  few  Spanish  ladies, 
in  short  white  petticoats  and  light  chemises,  scarcely 
concealed  by  graceful  mantillas  and  nelosos  floating  from 
their  dark  hair,  and  draping  their  bare  and  gleaming 
necks  and  arms,  are  tripping  with  slippered  feet  hurriedly 
homeward.  ^ 

The  lights  are  twinkling  in  the  Cafe  Victor  and  the 
Hotel  Frangais.  The  tingling  of  bells  announces  mules, 
ridden  by  dashing  caballeros  adorned  with  all  the  splendor 
of  Spanish  horse  trappings.  Still  the  streets  seem  curi- 
ously deserted  ;  the  lower  classes  have  left  them  ;  few 
mulateros,  boatmen,  or  ladrones  are  here  ;  they  are  nearly 
all  in  the  Cuinago,  and  those  that  are  not  yet  there  are 
hurrying  towards  the  native  quarter,  as  if  going  to  a  ren- 
dezvous. 

Looking  on  this,  Montez  thinks  :  "  This  will  be  a  glo- 
rious evening !  But  to  make  sure,  I  must  see  His 
Excellency." 

He  passes  rapidly  to  the  street  San  Juan  de  Dios,  and 
stops  before  a  low  stone  building,  in  front  of  which  a 
negro  sentry  is  parading,  with  dirty  gun  and  bare  feet. 
He  says  to  him:    "Colonel  Garrido  is  here?" 

*'Yes,  Senor,  inside." 

"  I  must  see  him." 

And  word  being  sent  in,  Garrido,  Commander  of  Police, 
makes  his  appearance.  He  is  half  negro,  quarter  Spanish, 
quarter  cur — all  devil.  Adorned  with  great  tawdry 
epaulettes,  and  buttons  and  sashes,  and  a  big  sword,  he 
wears  long  dark  oily  mustachios,  which  he  strokes  in  an 
affected  and  military  way. 

"Ah,  Senor  Montez,  miof"  he  laughs,  looking  at  the 
little  man  who  has  already  placed  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  is  chinking  doubloons  together.  "  You  have  come 
at  last.     I  have  been  waiting  for  you  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  represent  the  law,"  says  Montez.  "  There  is 
going  to  be  an  outbreak.  The  Americanos,  the  passen- 
gers at  the  railway  depot,  will  attack  to-night  our  poor 
fruit  pedlers." 


34  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"You  told  me  of  that  yesterday." 

"  Yes  !     I  am  a  prophet  !     Are  the  police  prepared  ?  " 

*'  The  police  will  do  their  duty.  They  are  now  ready," 
and  Garrido  chuckles  and  points  into  \.\\^  patio  where  he 
has  already  mustered  and  armed  the  hundred  vagabonds 
he  calls  the  police  of  Panama. 

''  Then  the  Americanos  will  bully  us  no  longer,"  re- 
joins Montez.  "  I  thought  that  would  be  your  decision. 
The  Americanos  have  women  and  children  with  them, 
also  considerable  sums  of  money  with  which  they  are 
going  to  buj  ranchos  in  California." 

"  But  the  men — those  awful  Yankee  fighters,"  stammers 
the  police  colonel,  growing  nervous  ;  "  I  remember  them 
in  '49  and  '50.     How  they  handled  their  revolvers  !  " 

"  Now — they  do  not  carry  many,  besides — "  Here  Fer- 
nando's  hand  chinks  a  roll  cf  doubloons  into  the  out- 
stretched palm  of  the  officer  of  the  law.  "  Besides — they 
are  unprepared  to  fight — these  rioters." 

*' A-ah,  that  settles  los  Americanos,"  laughs  Garrido. 
"  But  the  governor — "  suggests  the  other. 

"Ah,  the  governor,"  mutters  the  colonel  of  police. 
"  He  is  wavering." 

"  Wavering  ?  Diablo  !  Caramba  !  "  moans  Montez. 
Then  the  drop  of  Morgan's  buccaneer's  blood  coming  to 
the  front  in  this  little  man,  he  becomes  tremendous.  He 
cries  out  :  "  111  see  him  at  once  !  He  shall  waver  no 
longer !  " 

So  he  directs  his  way  to  His  Excellency's  house,  and 
begs  that  he  may  see  the  Governor  of  the  town  of  Panama, 
but  word  is  brought  him  that  His  Excellency  is  engaged. 

At  this  Mr.  Era  Diavolo  grinds  his  teeth,  writes  four 
words  on  a  slip  of  paper,  and  says  :  "  Give  that  to  His 
Excellency,  curse  him,  and  see  if  he  dares  to  be  engaged." 

A  moment  after,  the  answer  comes  that  he  can  see  the 
potentate  of  Panama. 

Young  Fernando  is  received  by  this  functionary,  with 
a  suggestive  snarl.  He  says  to  this  little  every-nation 
gentleman  :  "  What  mean  your  threats,  Seiior  Montez  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  if  the  President  at  Bogota  knows 
what  I  know,  the  Governor  of  Panama  will  occupy  six 
feet  of  our  quiet  little  cemetery  within  the  month,  though 
he  will  not  die  of  yellow  fever.     Shall  I  tell  him  ? " 

"  Certainly  not  !  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  35 

"  Not  if  you  do  as  you  promised.  There  is  no  dan- 
geF^!''  The  American  Consul  is  a  nothing  !  If  it  were 
EngUshmen  we  were  killing — Santos !  that  would  be 
different." 

"  Very  well,  then  !  Garrido  is  arranged  for? " 

"  Perfectly  !  Besides,  these  people  are  mostly  un- 
armed ;  they  have  women  and  children  with  them.  They 
will  be  easy.     Likewise,  the  plunder  will  be  great ! " 

"  And  my  share  ?  " 

*'Will  be  great  also,  as  I  promised." 

"Ah  !  then  I  will  know  nothing  about  it  !  I  shall  go 
to  sleep  !  1  will  not  be  awakened.  Buenas  noches,  Senor 
Montez  !  Tell  my  people  that  I  piust  be  disturbed  on  no 
account — not  for  an  earthquake — not  even  if  a  riot — 
nothing  till  to-morrow  morning  !  " 

"  Very  well,  I  will  give  your  orders  !  "  laughs  Fer- 
nando. He  is  about  to  depart,  when  suddenly  the 
governor  queries  :  "  How  will  the  riot  commence  ?  " 

''The  Americanos  shall  do  that !  " 

"  The  Americanos — how  ?  " 

"  There  are  nine  hundred  and  forty  passengers  ;  some 
one  of  them  is  sure  to  be  drunk.  Drunken  men  are 
quarrelsome  !  " 

With  these  words  Montez  departs,  whistling  to  him- 
self a  jaunty  air  from  one  of  Verdi's  first  operas — the 
ones  with  melody  divine  in  them — for  this  little  gentle- 
man has  a  drop  or  two  of  Italian  blood,  that  make  him 
a  devotee  to  the  Muses. 

So  passing  along,  he  joins  the  stream  of  passengers 
bound  for  the  railway  depot. 

Arriving  there,  the  scene  is  much  the  same  as  when  he 
left  it,  only  there  is  a  greater  throng  of  passengers  check- 
ing their  baggage  and  seeing  about  their  tickets.  More 
ladies  and  children  are  going  on  board  the  Toboga,  and 
the  laughter  coming  from  the  saloons  of  McFarlane's 
hotel  and  the  Ocean  House  (a  rival  hostelry)  is  louder. 
One  or  two  drunken  Americans  are  strolling  about  in 
front  of  the  depot,  and  bantering  in  an  alcoholic  way 
some  negro  fruit  hucksters,  who  are  plying  their  trade 
with  a  defiant  bloodthirsty  vim,  for  they  are  waving  the 
knives  by  which  they  cut  up  watermelons  and  pineapples, 
in  a  threatening  and  ferocious  manner. 

Just  back  of  these  stands  Domingo  and   fifty  or  sixty 


$6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

of  his  cronies,  and  perhaps  a  hundred  more  are  scattered 
from  the  depot,  along  the  lane  leading  to  the  Cuinago. 

Several  American  ladies,  and  their  husbands  and  chil- 
dren, together  with  one  or  two  Spanish  seiioras  of  the 
better  class,  from  the  town,  are  looking  at  the  scene, 
which  is  made  picturesque  by  torches,  as  darkness  is 
coming  down. 

It  is  a  peculiar  contrast  of  civilization  and  barbarism. 

On  one  side,  the  long  train  of  yellow  railway  passenger 
cars  ;  the  giant  locomotive,  that  is  powerless  now  because 
it  has  lost  its  steam  ;  the  railroad  track  ;  the  puffing 
steamer  at  the  end  of  the  pier  ;  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  Anglo-Saxon  race,  in  the  costumes  of  Paris  and  New 
York,  for  some  of  the  ladies  wear  little  crinolines,  that 
are  just  now  commencing  to  make  their  appearance  on 
the  Boulevards  and  Broadway. 

On  the  other  side,  the  flaming  torches  of  the  negroes  ; 
their  black,  swarthy  faces ;  the  waving  palms  and  bam- 
boos and  cocoanuts  of  the  tropics  ;  the  wild  gesticulations 
and  jargons  of  the  savage  races  who  are  half  clothed,  and 
seem  to  excite  themselves  not  only  with  />i//^ue  and  aguar- 
diente, but  with  some  more  subtle  yet  potent  stimulant, 
for  their  eyes  blaze  under  the  torch  glow  with  some  unholy 
fire. 

Between  these  aggregations— one  white  and  civil- 
ized, one  black  and  barbarous — stands  one  man — drunk 
and  disorderly — and  he,  alas  !  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
He  is  bargaining  with  a  negro  huckster  for  a  slice  of 
watermelon.  He  takes  the  watermelon,  the  watermelon 
disappears  ;  the  negro  holds  out  his  hand,  demanding  a 
real. 

*'  Go  to  the — the — d — devil  !  "  hiccups  the  drunken 
American. 

^^  K  real,  or  your  life's  blood,  6^/'/«^<? /"  screams  the 
negro  savage,  waving  his  machete  in  threatening  gestures 
about  the  American's  head. 

"  Here's  your  ten-cent  piece,  Blackey  !  Don't  make  a 
muss,"  cries  another  Anglo-Saxon,  stepping  alongside  his 
compatriot,  and  tossing  the  negro  the  demanded  coin. 

"  Curse  it  !  He— he  was  trying  to  b—b— bully  me  !  " 
gulps  the  drunken  American,  trying  to  draw  a  revolver. 

A  second  later,  there  is  a  sound  of  a  pistol  shot,  and 
riot  and  plunder,  arson  and  murder,  are  let  loose  upon 


BARON    MONTEZ.  37 

th^j^efenceless  Americans,  who.  in  a  foreign  land,  bur- 
dened with  their  women  and  children,  are  almost  helpless, 
in  the  presence  of  a  debased  and  armed  mob. 

The  bell  of  the  old  church  of  Santa  Anna,  in  the  native 
quarter,  near  the  Gargona  trail,  is  pealing  an  alarm. 
Hundreds  of  blacks  are  running  up  the  road  from  the 
Cuinago,  with  wild  cries  and  waving  of  muskets,  machetes, 
and  pistols. 

On  this  Montez  looks  and  smiles,  and  as  he  does  so,  a 
hand  is  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  voice  cries  in  his 
ear :  "  Stand  the  brutes  off  till  the  women  and  children 
get  on  board  the  steamer  !  "  Then  George  Ripley,  draw- 
ing his  revolver  from  his  belt,  runs  down  the  steps  of  the 
hotel,  and  steps  in  front  of  the  coming  negroes. 

A  moment  after,  McLean  of  the  Pacific  Mail  Company, 
and  Nelson  of  the  railroad,  stand  beside  him. 

*'  Get  the  women  on  board  the  boat,  quick  !  If  they 
come  another  step,  I  shoot  !  "  cries  the  Californian. 
''  And  I  shoot  to  kill  !  " 

A  moment  more  and  he  would  try  his  pistol,  and  find 
it  useless,  and  thus  perchance  save  his  own  life,  did  not 
Montez  hurriedly  whisper  to  him  :  "  Hold  !  the  police 
are  coming  !     Hear  their  bugle  !  " 

At  this  moment  its  clear  notes  sound  over  the  road 
running  from  the  town. 

"  Ah  !  then  all  is  well !  "  mutters  George,  and  puts  up 
his  revolver. 

Then  a  man  named  Willis,  who  has  hastily  rolled  a  six 
pounder  out  of  the  railroad  depot,  and  trained  it  loaded 
to  the  muzzle  down  the  lane  running  towards  the  Cui- 
nago, which  is  crowded  with  coming  blacks,  turns  it 
away,  crying  :  "  Law  and  order  !  we're  all  right  now," 
and  runs  it  back  down  the  wharf,  as  headed,  by  Garrido, 
the  native  police  come  marching  with  unsoldierly  bare 
feet,  and  garelessly  carried  muskets,  to  the  front  of  the 
hotel. 

As  they  see  the  police,  a  cry  of  joy  comes  from  the 
American  ladies  and  children,  who  have  not  as  yet 
escaped  to  the  steamboat. 

The  bugle  sounds  again.  A  crashing  volley  from  the 
police. 

"  My  God  !  "  cries  George.  "  They  have  made  a 
mistake  !     They  are  shooting  at  us  !     They  have  killed 


38  BARON    MONTEZ. 

the  child  beside  me  !  There's  its  mother  screaming  over 
it." 

Another  crashing  volley ! 

Mistake  no  more  !     It  is  no  riot.     It  is  a  massacre  ! 

Attacking  negroes  rush  upon  the  railway  station, 
butchering  those  they  come  upon,  and  plundering  all. 
Trunks  are  broken  open  and  looted  ;  and  a  little  baby, 
torn  from  its  mother,  is  tossed  about  by  the  savage  men 
and  more  savage  women  of  the  mob,  till  it  becomes  a 
clot  of  gore. 

Again  the  police  fire  ! 

More  Anglo-Saxon  blood  ! 

A  delicate  American  lady  staggers  to  Ripley  and 
gasps,  "  Tell  my  husband  I — I  was  going  to  join — Harry 
Nesmith  of  Colusa— how  I— died,"  then  falls  at  his  feet, 
a  Minie  bullet  through  her  breast. 

This  sight  brings  recollection  to  the  Californian. 

With  a  muttered  "  My  God  !  my  wife  !  "  George 
Ripley  rushes  back  into  the  hotel  to  find  and  save,  if 
possible,  his  wife  and  treasure.  If  not  both,  the  woman 
he  adores. 

,  Montez,  Domingo  and  three  blacks  glide  after  him. 
The  register  of  the  hotel  lies  open  in  the  deserted  office. 
Tearing  it  to  pieces,  Fernando  says  :  "  There  is  now  no 
record  of  the  American  on  the  Isthmus  !  His  fate  will 
be  unknown.     To  business  !  " 

A  second  later,  amid  crashing  volleys.  George  Ripley, 
one  arm  around  the  slight  waist  of  his  wife,  who  is  sob- 
bing on  his  shoulder,  one  foot  upon  the  trunk  that 
contains  the  fortune  he  has  risked  his  life  to  gain  amid 
the  Sierras  of  California,  stands  confronting  the  negroes  ; 
foremost  of  whom,  his  eyes  all  blood-red  now,  is  Domingo, 
a  vermilion  glow  upon  his  black  cheeks  and  white  eye- 
balls, as  if  they  were  painted. 

The  ex-pirate  cries  :  "  Death  to  the  Americano  !  Save 
the  lady  !     Her  beauty  gives  her  life  !  " 

To  this  Ripley's  revolver  makes  reply  ;  the  lock  clicks, 
but  no  cartridge  explodes.  With  a  muttered  curse  he  turns 
the  cylinder. 

They  are  springing  towards  him.  Again  the  pistol, 
that  has  never  failed  him  till  now,  when  all  depends  upon 
it,  gives  no  report  to  his  clicking  trigger. 

"  My    heaven  !      Someone    has    tampered     with    my 


BARON    MONTEZ.  39 

weapon  !  "  he  gasps  ;  and  taking  his  wife's  hand,  turns  to 
fly,'  but  at  the  door  stands  the  man  he  thinks  his  friend, 
and  he  cries  :  "  Thank  God  !     In  time,  Montez  !  " 

And  Alice  joins  his  shout :  "Dear  Senor  Montez,  God 
bless  you  for  coming  !  " 

But  tired  of  diplomacy,  the  savage  drop  coming  upper- 
most in  him,  this  little  every-nation  fiend  cannot  for  the 
life  of  him  keep  down  a  smile  of  triumph  and  a  mocking 
laugh,  as  Domingo  cries  :  "  Fear  not  his  pistol  !  It  will 
not  shoot.  " 

Then  suddenly  the  American  knows  ! 

He  gasps  :  "  My  ruined  weapon  ! — that  bath  at  Toboga 
— it  was  you  !  you  I     you  !     But,  Judas,  you  go  first !  " 

Reversing  the  revolver,  with  its  butt  end  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  strikes  down  two  negroes  who  spring  upon  him, 
and  seizing  Montez  by  the  throat,  is  strangling  him  over 
the  trunk  of  his  desires. 

But  at  this  moment  there  is  a  flash  ;  and,  with  a  shriek, 
such  as  comes  only  when  hope  has  gone,  Alice  Ripley 
sinks  fainting  on  the  dead  body  of  her  husband.  For  as 
he  has  forced  the  every-nation  traitor  down,  the  back  of 
the  Californian's  head  has  come  within  two  inches  of  the 
pistol  of  Domingo,  the  ex-pirate  ;  and  to  the  flash  of  its 
explosion,  George  Ripley  dies. 

Looking  on  the  scene,  Fernando,  rising,  gasps — for  the 
breath  has  nearly  left  his  body — to  Domingo  :  "  Quick  ! 
the  mules — before  the  massacre  is  over  !  This  treasure 
is  mine — all  mine  !  This  beauty  is  mine — all  mine  ! 
Montez  has  made  his  first  great  start  in  life  !  " 

As  he  speaks,  more  volleys  from  the  murderous  police 
outside  tell  of  more  bloodshed  in  the  railway  station, 
and  more  cruel  massacre  of  unarmed  men  and  helpless 
women  and  shrieking  children,  that,  were  they  English, 
would  have  been  atoned  for  by  the  blood  of  the  Governor 
of  Panama  and  his  satellites  and  police ;  but  being 
American,  is  left  to  the  shallying  procrastination  of  a 
languid  consul,  and  forgotten  soon  in  the  rush  of  the 
great  Republic  towards  what  it  loves  best — gold. 

Will  the  United  States  of  America  never  learn  to 
protect  its  absent  citizens,  and  make  its  banner,  like  the 
Union  Jack  of  England,  a  bulwark  of  defence  to  its 
wanderers  on  the  earth  and  on  the  sea  ? 

Some    two   hours   afterwards,   the    moon    rising    high 


40  BARON    MONTEZ. 

above  the  Cordilleras  of  the  Isthmus,  lights  up  the  Gar- 
gona  trail  leading  into  the  mountains,  where,  on  the 
back  of  a  mule,  is  a  defenceless  woman  insensible,  in  the 
arms  of  Montez,  who  rides  hurriedly  along,  bearing  her 
farther  from  any  aid  that  civilized  man  can  give,  into  the 
recesses  of  the  upper  valley  of  the  Chagres.  Domingo, 
ex-pirate,  striding  sturdily  along  in  front  of  his  master, 
mutters  :  "  This  has  been  a  pleasant  evening  !  " 

The  glancing  fireflies  light  up  the  lianas,  parasites  and 
creeping  plants  that  hang  from  the  great  trees  of  the 
dense  torrid  forest.  The  silence  is  unbroken  save  by  the 
tramp  of  the  mule's  hoofs  as  they  .scatter  the  decaying 
leaves,  or  the  rustle  of  a  serpent  seeking  his  nightly 
prey — when,  as  he  holds  the  fair  victim  to  his  heart,  Mon- 
tez starts. 

Her  lips  are  moving — sentiency  is  coming  to  her.  She 
is  shuddering,  and  riiurmuring:  "  My  husband — killed  at 
my  side  !  " 

And  under  that  same  tropic  moon,  far  out  in  the  waters 
of  the  Bay  of  Panama,  "  Toboga  Bill  "  and  two  other 
tiger-sharks,  are  munching  over  and  playing  with  a  some- 
thing that  was  once  George  Ripley. 

And,  in  a  school  dormitory,  in  far-away  America,  a 
child  in  the  white  dress  of  night  is  kneeling  by  her  little 
bed,  and  praying,  with  happy  eyes  and  expectant  lips  : 
'*  God  bless  papa  and  mamma,  who  are  coming  home  to 
me  again  !  " 


tj*<^ 


BOOK    II. 
The   Franco- American. 


CHAPTER   V. 

BLACK    BLOOD    CHANGES    TO    BLUE. 

It  had  been  a  day  of  triumph  for  Panama  and  le 
grand  Fran^ais  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps,  this  first  day  of 
January,  1880— this  day  that  inaugurated  the  opening 
work  of  the  Canal  Transatlantique;  that  was  to  make  the 
commerce  of  all  oceans  one  ;  that  was  to  wipe  out  from 
the  sailor's  log  the  tempestuous  icy  hurricanes  of  Cape 
Horn,  and  the  more  languid  but  equally  retarding  calms 
of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  By  it  France  was  to  become 
richer,  the  world  happier,  and  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps 
doubly  immortal — this  man  of  Suez  and  of  Panama. 

Five  o'clock  on  the  previous  afternoon,  welcomed  by 
the  braying  o^f  the  one  military  band,  and  addresses  from 
the  Committee,  and  President  of  the  State  of  Panama  at 
the  railway  station,  he  had  descended  from  the  train 
bringing  him  from  x'\spinwall,  soon  to  be  rechristened 
Colon. 

The  bridge  over  the  track  of  the  Panama  Railroad, 
from  which  the  speeches  were  made,  had  been  adorned 
with  the  flags  of  France  and  Colombia. 

In  carriages,  the  finest  in  the  city,  though  not  of  the 
latest  style,  and  the  worse  for  twenty  years'  wear,  Comte  de 
Lesseps  and  his  attendant  party  of  engineers,  politicians 
and  fortune  seekers,  had  been  driven  through  streets, 
that  for  once  in  the  history  of  Panama,  and  only  once  in 
its  past,  present,  or  to  come,  were  clean.  They  had  been 
swept  by  municipal  order,  that  their  foul  odors  might 


42  BARON    MONTEZ. 

not  affront  the  delicate  nostrils  of  the  great  Frenchman. 
Along  the  road  from  the  railway  station,  leading  up  to 
the  old  Gargona  road,  and  thence  into  the  Plaza  and  the 
Grand  Hotel,  the  huts  and  houses  were  especially  white- 
washed for  the  occasion,  to  destroy  germs  of  yellow  fever, 
or  cholera  Asiaticus  that  had  convenient  resting  place 
upon  their  palm-thatched  roofs  and  mouldy  beams. 

This  had  been  the  suggestion  of  Don  Fernando 
Gomez  Montez,  by  this  time  one  of  the  leading 
dignitaries  of  the  city,  banker,  rich  man,  and  general 
swell,  who  had  impressed  his  views  upon  his  confreres^ 
by  this  pertinent  remark :  "  Caramba !  If  all  those 
delicate  Europeans  encounter  Yellow  Jack  and  el  vomito 
negro  before  they  commence  operations,  good-by  to  our 
canal  which  is  to  make  us  rich." 

So  the  French  party  came  with  prancing  of  horses  and 
shoutings  from  the  crowd  of  Creoles,  negroes,  and  the 
general  populace,  between  two  battalions  of  native 
troops  drawn  up  along  the  road,  as  ragged,  as  barefooted 
and  as  badly  armed  as  in  the  days  of  '49  ;  for  this  man 
and  his  nation  were  to  bring  wealth,  commerce,  and  enter- 
prise to  this  city  deserted  since  the  days  of  the  early 
Californian  travel  ;  and  Panama  was  to  become  even 
greater,  richer,  and  more  populous  and  important  than 
the  old  town  whose  deserted  tower  stands  in  tropical 
jungle  five  miles  to  the  south — the  one  that  Morgan's 
buccaneers  destroyed  two  hundred  years  before — the 
richest  city  of  its  size  on  earth. 

Among  the  dite  gathered  to  meet  the  great  French- 
man had  stood  Fernando  Gomez  Montez,  apparently 
not  much  older  than  when  he  had  made  his  first  great 
coup  in  life  from  the  returning  Californian,  since  which 
time  he  has  devoted  the  plundered  gold  dust  of  that 
night  to  commercial  pursuits,  and  has  built  up  for  him- 
self a  fortune,  large  for  a  Colombian  city,  but  not  great 
for  Paris  or  New  York. 

His  poverty  he  has  learned  by  travel,  for  he  has  been 
both  to  France  and  America  ;  and  his  intellect,  bright, 
wicked,  and  unscrupulous  as  ever,  has  been  made  subtile, 
cautious,  and  wary  by  experience.  At  twenty  he  was  a 
great  villain,  at  forty-four  he  is  a  great  man,  and  therefore 
greater  villain.  To  the  audacity 
added  the  finesse  of  the  diplomat. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  43 

, /.During  the  preceding  day  he  has  made  his  address 
at  the  railway  station  and  at  the  banquet  of  the  evening, 
and  has  been  embraced  by  le  grand  Fran^ais,  and  petted 
with  diplomatic  tact,  and  called  the  hero  local  of  the 
canal — for  he  had  greatly  assisted  in  obtaining  from  the 
Colombian  Government  the  concession  about  to  be  sold 
to  French  stockholders  for  ten  million  francs. 

On  this  day  he  has,  with  the  inaugural  party,  sailed  in 
the  Tobaguilla  around  the  bay,  into  La  Boca  of  the  Rio 
Grande,  where  young  Mademoiselle  Fernanda  de  Lesseps 
^yas  to  have  inaugurated  the  work  of  the  canal,  by  dig- 
ging with  childish  shovel  the  first  little  sod  of  all  the 
earth  that  separated  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific.  But,  as  it 
had  grown  late,  in  this  land  where  darkness  comes  on 
with  sudden  rush,  they  agreed  to  consider  the  entrance 
of  the  steamer  into  the  river  as  the  opening  of  the  work 
of  the  canal — and  omitted  the  shovelful  of  Isthmus 
swamp  ;  thus  beginning  the  gigantic  enterprise  by  a 
makeshift— one  of  the  many  that  they  made— till  make- 
shifts were  of  use  no  more. 

Returned  from  this  excursion,  to-night  Fernando 
Montez  is  at  one  of  the  minor  banquets  that  take  place 
before  the  ball. 

It  is  in  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  of  the  Grand 
Hotel.  Several  of  the  attache  of  De  Lesseps  are  at 
the  table — a  Paralta,  a  Diaz,  and  one  or  two  others  of 
the  leading  families  of  the  Isthmus.  It  is  a  gentlemen's 
dinner  party  ;  and  though  the  great  Frenchman  is  not 
there  in  person,  all  are  enthusiastic  about  the  canal 
which  is  to  give  every  one  a  chance  to  grab  a  fortune. 

Among  them  sits  one  Anglo-Saxon— a  man  of  about 
twenty-eight  years,  who  has  a  pleasant  though  weak  face, 
surmounted  by  light  hair,  and  adorned  by  a  moustache 
and  goatee,  the  cut  of  which  are  French.  His  costume  is 
rather  that  of  Paris  than  America,  as  far  as  a  dress  suit 
permits. 

"  The  stock  must  be  subscribed  for  at  once  ! "  cries 
Montez.  "  The  fever  must  not  be  let  grow  cold  in 
France." 

*'  Oh,  trust  De  Lesseps  for  that !  "  answers  one  of  his 
satellites,  Monsieur  Dirks,  Dutch  engineer,  who  has  dug 
canals  in  level  Holland. 

"  Let  me  be  the  first  to  subscribe  !  "  says  the  Franco- 


44  BARON    MONTEZ. 

American.  Here  he  whispers  to  one  of  the  French 
attaches  :  "  Please  hand  my  name  for  the  first  one  thou- 
sand shares  to  your  chief,  the  Comte  de  Lesseps  !  " 

"  The  first  one  thousand  shares  subscribed  for  by  an 
American  !  "  There  is  a  buzz  of  excitement  around  the 
table.     The  champagne  glasses  clink. 

"  A  health,"  cries  Montez,  '^  to  the  great  Republic  and 
the  American,  Mr.  Frank  Leroy  Larchmont  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  says  the  gentleman  he  toasts. 
"  Don't  put  me  down  as  an  American.  Register  me  as  a 
Franco-American — Francois  Leroy  Larchmont." 

"But  you  live  in  the  United  States?  "  says  Jose  Peralta 
who  sits  next  to  him. 

"  I  did  once.  Now  1  consider  myself  a  Parisian  !  " 
Which  in  truth  he  does. 

"  This  gentleman  who  takes  one  thousand  shares  so 
eagerly — I  know  his  name — but  what  is  he  ?  "  whispers 
Montez  to  the  Frenchman  sitting  next  to  him. 

"  Oh,  he  is  very  rich,  I  believe  !  That  is  all  I  know 
about  him.  He  lives  in  Paris,  has  the  good  taste  to  like 
France,  and  very  seldom  visits  his  native  land." 

-Then  the  banquet  goes  on,  but  during  its  conversation, 
buzz  and  excitement,  Montez'  eye,  sleepless  and  relentless, 
never  leaves  the  face  of  the  Franco-American  who  has 
taken  the  one  thousand  shares. 

Fernando  Gomez  Montez  has  determined  to  make 
himself  one  of  the  rich  men  of  the  world  by  this  canal  ;  as 
many  more  did  about  that  time,  some  of  whom  succeeded. 
He  is  shrewd  enough  to  foresee,  this  cannot  be  by  the 
dividends  it  will  pay  to  its  investors,  but  in  the  immense 
amount  of  money  that  must  be  handled,  and  rolled  about, 
and  circulated  from  hand  to  hand  and  check  book  to 
check  book  during  its  construction. 

His  subtle  mind  can  easily  grasp  the  idea  that  in  this 
great  "  grab  game  "  some  of  it  must  come  into  his 
clutches.  This  gentleman,  who  rushes  so  eagerly  into  a 
scheme  just  set  on  foot,  whose  face  has  a  peculiar  weak- 
ness not  often  seen  in  men  of  the  United  States,  may 
possibly  be  a  very  good  chicken  to  pick  in  the  great 
pluckings  and  pickings  that  will  take  place  during  all  the 
financial  evolutions  of  this  great  enterprise. 

As  soon  as  cigars  pass  about,  and  the  formality  of  the 
•dinner  becomes  somewhat  relaxed,  he  contrives  to  get 


BARON    MONTEZ.  45 

his  chair  beside  that  of  Mr.  Larchmont,  and  their  con- 
versation, from  being  that  of  first  introduction,  becomes 
freighted  with  some  of  the  confidences  of  friends. 

Mr.  Larchmont,  to  Fernando's  deft  questioning,  in- 
forms him  that  though  educated  partly  in  America,  and 
his  family  entirely  American,  he  has  lived  from  his 
seventeenth  year  mainly  in  Europe  and  Paris.  "  Paris," 
he  says,  "  I  regard  as  my  home.  I  have  a  young  brother 
in  the  United  States,  who  is  only  twenty  now.  I  am 
afraid  he  is  too  American  to  ever  become  a  Parisian  like 
myself."  But  here  their  conversation  is  disturbed. 
■V  A  dapper  young  man,  with  the  quick  address  of  one  to 
whom  time  is  money,  and  the  manner  of  "  no  time  like 
the  present,"  enters  the  room,  and  says  :  "  Pardon  my 
stopping  the  champagne,  Monsieur  Dirks.  I  believe  you 
are  one  of  the  engineers  in  control  of  the  preliminary 
surveys  of  the  canal  ?  " 
-   "  I  have  that  honor,"  says  the  Hollander. 

"  Then,  between  drinks,  permit  me  to  ask  you  four 
questions.  First,  when  do  you  expect  to  open  the  Pana- 
ma Canal  that  has  been  inaugurated  to-day  ?" 

"Certainly,"  replies  the  Dutch  engineer,  astonished 
at  the  abruptness  of  the  address.  "  In  five  years  at  the 
latest.     In  1885." 

"  Vou  are  sure  ?" 

"  So  confident  that  I  would  write  it  in  letters  twenty- 
four  feet  high  !  " 

"  Then  can  you  tell  me  how  you  are  going  to  provide 
for  the  tremendous  floods  m  the  Chagres  River  that  wash 
down,  each  rainy  season,  dirt  enough  to  fill  up  the  whole 
canal  ? " 

"  That  will  be  by  means  of  a  large  dam  and  reservoir 
sufficient  to  hold  the  average  rainfall  of  a  week." 

"  But  when  the  rainfall  is  more  than  the  average,  what 
will  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

To  this,  the  Hollander  replies  evasively :  "  Are  you 
an  engineer  ?" 

"  No  !  " 

"  Then  why  do  you  ask  engineering  questions  ?  "  he 
replies  sternly. 

"  It  is  because  I  am  not  an  engineer  that  I  ask  engi- 
neering questions.  If  I  were  an  engineer,  I  could  deter- 
mine things  for  myself." 


46  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Ah,  then  I  will  tell  you.  The  floods  in  the  Chagres 
will  be  provided  for — later." 

"  Then,  the  floods  being  provided  for,  what  will  you 
do  with  the  higher  rise  of  tide  in  the  Paciflc  than  the 
Atlantic?" 

"  That  will  be  provided  for  later  also  !  "  returns  the 
Dutch  engineer  savagely.  And  others  of  the  Latin  races 
at  the  banquet  look  with  angry  eyes  upon  this  young  man 
who  stays  their  festival.  VVho  is  this  creature  that  dares 
interrupt  their  night  of  triumph  by  impertinent  queries 
that  tend  to  throw  doubt  upon  their  grand  scheme  ? 

''Then,  all  this  being  settled,  will  you  tell  me  how 
you  are  going  to  build  the  canal  if  you  don't  get  the 
permission  of  the  Panama  Railroad,  which  by  its  conces- 
sion from  the  Colombian  government  must  give  its  con- 
sent before  you  can  dig  a  barrelful  of  dirt  out  of  your 
gigantic  ditch  ?  " 

At  this  question,  the  guests  rise  with  foreign  indigna- 
tion and  South  American  swagger. 

"That,"  shouts  Dirks,  wildly,  "  will  be  provided  for  by 
Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Lesseps.  When  he  visits  the 
United  States,  he  will  obtain  from  the  Panama  Railroad 
the  requisite  consent." 

'*  Not  unless  he  pays  Trainor  W.  Park  pretty  well,  if  I 
know  him,"  replies  the  young  man.  '*  1  have  just  got 
time  to  telegraph  your  answer." 

"  Ah,  you  are  an  emissary  I"  cries  a  French  attach^. 
*'  An  emissary  of  the  United  States,  that  is  now  making 
such  a  shriek  about  the  accursed  Monroe  doctrine  !  " 

*'I  am  no  emissary!"  the  intruder  gasps,  dismayed, 
for  two  or  three  Latins  have  gathered  about  him  threat- 
eningly, and  one,  a  young  Chilian-o,  is  handling  a  carving 
knife  as  if  it  were  a  cuchillo.     "  I  am  merely  a  reporter 

for  the  New  York "     He  can  say  no  more,  for  at  this 

instant  he  is  rushed  from  the  room  and  hurled  down 
stairs,  which  perchance  saves  his  life,  as  the  C/^/7/^/;^  does 
not  reach  him  in  time. 

Looking  on  this,  the  Franco-American  says  dis- 
gustedly :  "  You  see  the  crude  manners  of  my  country- 
men. No  wonder  I  fly  from  them  !  You  will  appreciate 
my  embarrassment,  Seiior  Montez,  at  this  uncouth  scene. 
I  have  been  lately  to  New  York,  to  try  to  induce  my 
brother  Henri  to  live  with  me  in  Paris,  but  he  declines. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  47 

Over,  his  actions  I  have  no  control  ;  but  my  ward,  Made- 
moiselle Jessie  Severn,  as  her  guardian  and  trustee,  I  am 
taking  with  me  to  Paris.  I  made  a  short  tour  in  America, 
and  while  in  San  Francisco,  thought  I  would  come  to 
Panama,  to  see  the  opening  of  this  great  French  enter- 
prise, and  from  here  take  passage  in  the  Transatlaniique 
line  from  Colon  to  France." 

*'  The  young  lady,  your  ward,  is  with  you  ;  "  remarks 
Montez  indifferently. 

*'  Oh,  yes  ;  she  and  her  governess  and  nurse." 

"  Ah,  she  is  not  a  young  lady?  " 

"  Not  yet.  She  is  but  ten.  I  am  taking  her  to 
Europe,  to  educate  her  in  the  manner  of  my  adopted 
country.  I  do  not  approve  of  the  way  in  which  girls 
are  brought  up  in  the  United  States.  Heiresses  in 
America  become  so  bold  and  self-reliant.  They  even 
assert  their  independence  to  the  extent  of  selecting  their 
own  husbands." 

*'  Ah,  an  heiress  !  "  thinks  Fernando,  his  eyes  opening 
a  little  wider  at  the  news,  for  here  may  be  two  fortunes 
to  play  with  ;  not  only  that  of  this  rich  gentleman,  but 
also  that  of  his  ward. 

So  he  proceeds  to  weave  the  first  meshes  in  the  web 
of  the  spider  around  this  Franco-American  fly.  His  con- 
versation grows  jovial,  and  full  of  anecdote,  repartee,  and 
wit.  Incidentally,  by  adroit  questions  that  seem  more 
suggestions  than  queries,  he  learns  what  he  wishes  to 
know  of  the  other's  character  and  life  ;  and,  though  it  is 
conveyed  to  him  with  reluctance,  discovers  that  Mr. 
Larchmont's  father  had  been  at  one  time  a  tailor  in  New 
York,  and  turning  the  money  he  had  received  for  dress 
suits,  overcoats,  and  trousers  into  city  real  estate,  had 
become  one  of  the  magnates  of  Manhattan,  though  his 
elder  son  was  almost  ashamed  to  own  him,  notwithstand- 
ing the  very  handsome  estates  he  had  left  behind  him  to 
his  two  sons  and  co-heirs. 

"  Ah  !  "  remarks  Montez,  to  this  revelation,  "  no  one  can 
avoid  bourgeois  ancestors  in  the  United  States  ;  it  is  land 
of  trade  and  money."  And  he  sneers  at  the  tradesmen 
in  his  mind,  as  the  robber  always  does  at  the  merchant. 

Then  noting  that  the  gentleman  sitting  opposite  him 
seems  somewhat  ashamed  of  his  commercial  American 
ancestors,  and  drags  into  his  conversation  every  one  he 


4S  BARON    MONTEZ. 

knows  of  title  or  rank  in  the  Old  World,  Montez'  occult 
mind  divines  that  to  thoroughly  and  easily  trap  this  man 
who  is  ashamed  of  his  commercial  country  and  tailor 
birth,  he  his  captor  must  be  of  the  nobility. 

Then  he  mentions  parenthetically  :  ''  Though  you  of 
North  America  have  no  aristocracy,  South  America  still 
clings  to  hers.  The  Hidalgos  of  Spain  never  forget 
that  they  are  grandees.  As  such  I  remember  my  ances- 
tors !  "  and  a  drop  of  the  blood  of  one  of  the  Spanish 
Conquistadores  com.ing  into  his  eyes,  this  gentleman 
looks  very  haughty  and  exclusive  to  his  Franco-American 
acquaintance. 

Shortly  after,  they  stroll  from  the  apartment  in  which 
the  little  banquet  has  taken  place,  towards  the  ball- 
room. As  they  pass  through  the  corridor  of  the  hotel, 
which  is  brilliantly  lighted,  a  charming  figure  trips  toward 
them.  It  is  that  of  a  beautiful  little  girl,  who  is  dressed 
like  a  sylph  in  gauze  and  fancy  flowers  and  whitest 
muslin. 

She  is  attended  by  a  French  bon?ie,  trying  in  vain  to 
restrain  her  charge,  who  comes  eagerly  towards  the  gen- 
tlemen, exclaiming,  "  Mr.  Larchmont— Frank — Guardy  ! 
Look  what  the  count  has  given  me." 

She  exhibits  one  of  the  beautiful  decorations  the  charm- 
ing gentlemjin  had  had  made  for  distribution  among  the 
ladies  of  Panama — a  mass  of  colored  enamel  and  solid 
gold,  and  bearing  the  Colombian  coat  of  arms,  and  an 
inscription  in  Spanish-  announcing  the  inauguration  of 
Del  Canal  Interoceanic  by  Count  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps. 

These  exquisite  badges  had  been  scattered  broadcast 
among  the  youth  and  beauty  of  Panama,  little  drops  in 
the  ocean  of  expense  that  was  to  come,  but  bearing 
promise  of  the  lavish  manner  in  which  gold  would  be 
thrown  broadcast  over  promoters,  jobbers,  contractors 
and  employees— in  short,  on  everyone  engaged  in  this 
gigantic  enterprise — save  the  stockholders. 

Delighted  with  her  present,  the  child  stands  poised  on 
tiptoe,  one  hand  held  upwards  towards  her  guardian,  one 
little  foot  advanced.  With  bare  white  arms  and  graceful 
pose,  the  short  skirts  of  childhood  displaying  fairy  limbs, 
she  looks  to  Montez  like  a  ballerina  idealized.  For  she 
has  the  blonde  hair  and  blue  eyes  that  dark  nations  love 
so  well  ;  and  her  figure,  draped  in  the  light  dress  of  that 


BARON    MONTEZ.  49 

wa/jn  climate,  gives  promise  of  faultless  development  in 
an  early  future. 

•^  This  is  my  little  ward,"  says  Larchmont,  examining 
the  pretty  bauble  she  holds  up  to  him.  "  Miss  Jessie 
Severn,  permit  me  to  present  Sefior  Montez." 

'■^  Baron  Montez." 

"  Ah  ! "  is  the  little  surprised  exclamation  from  the 
American. 

''  Yes,  we  are  old  Castilians,  we  Montez,  and  like  all 
Spanish  Hidalgos,  punctilio  itself  about  our  name  and 
our  titles.  You  will  excuse  my  mentioning  it  to  you," 
says  Fernando,  with  a  pleased  smile  at  his  own  inspira- 
tion.     ''  Bar-on  Fernando  Montez." 

But  here  the  little  girl  breaks  in  upon  them,  and  says  : 
"  How  curious.  Mademoiselle  Fernanda  de  Lesseps  was 
to  open  the  canal  to-day,  and  you  are  called  Fernando  ! 
Fernando  Montez — that's  a  pretty  name  !  I  call  little 
Fernanda,  Totote ;  must  I  call  you  Tototo?''  Then  she 
looks  at  the  little  figure  of  the  ennobled  gentleman,  and 
gazes  curiously  at  his  jetty  hair  that  is  just  beginning  to 
show  a  little  silver  on  the  temples,  and  notes  his  mobile 
mouth  play  under  his  waxed  moustachios,  and  his  very 
white  shirt,  which  has  a  decoration  upon  it — some  old 
Spanish  order  he  had  picked  up  in  some  Peruvian  cathe- 
dral. Next  the  blue  eyes  of  happy  childhood  glance  up 
fearlessly  at  the  bright  orbs  of  the  new-made  noble  that 
have  opal  flashes  in  the  gaslight ;  and,  somehow,  though 
this  child  had  never  felt  fear  before,  her  eyes  droop  before 
those  of  the  all-nation  gentleman,  and  she  is  happy  when 
her  guardian  says  :  "  Jessie,  it  is  time  for  little  girls  to 
be  in  bed."  So  mademoiselle  trips  hurriedly  off  to  her 
governess,  followed  by  the  sleepless  eyes  of  Montez. 

"You  have  made  quite  an  impression  on  my  little 
ward,"  whispers  the  guardian. 

"Ah,  you  ravish  me  with  delight !  "  cries  Fernando. 

And  so  he  has  ;  for  the  little  girl  is  murmuring  to  her- 
self :  "Bluebeard,  Bluebeard — naughty  Bluebeard  !  "  and 
trembles  as  she  runs  along. 

The  Hidalgo  is  pleased  to  see  that  his  title  has  made 
an  impression  upon  the  Franco- American.  He  remarks, 
for  the  beauty  of  the  child  still  lingers  in  his  senses, 
*'  Miss  Jessie  will  soon  be  ready  to  bless  some  happy 
man  with  her  hand— this  little  beauty  !  " 


5©  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Pooh  !  She  is  only  ten.  That  will  be  years  from 
now  !  "  says  Larchmont  easily.  Then  he  goes  on  :  "  But 
I  see  in  this  tropic  land  the  ladies  develop  early,"  and 
casts  his  eyes  over  the  bronze  shouldered  Inezes  and 
Doloreses,  as  they  are  trooping  into  the  ballroom. 

"  Yes,  we  would  marry  her  at  fourteen  here  !  "  laughs 
Montez.  "  But  even  in  France,  in  a  few  years  she  will  be 
ready  for  her  ^roi/sseau — about  the  time  the  canal  will  be 
open.  You  might  celebrate  both  /e^es  together,  when 
you  have  selected  the  husband." 

Then  the  buzz  of  excitement  coming  in  through  win- 
dows that  are  always  open,  save  during  thunder  storms, 
in  this  torrid  city,  attracts  the  gentlemen.  They  step  out 
to  catch  the  night  breeze  that  comes  refreshingly  to  their 
cheeks,  and  look  down  upon  the  great  Plaza  of  Panama, 
with  its  green  plants  and  paved  walks,  in  which  the 
crowd  are  promenading,  the  great  cathedral  standing  at 
their  left.  For  this  is  the  old  Grand  Hotel — the  one 
that  afterwards  became  the  offices  of  the  Panama  Canal — 
which  is  decked  to-night  for  gayety. 

Looking  at  the  cathedral,  a  grim  smile  comes  over  the 
face  of  Montez,  and  he  sees  in  his  vivid  imagination  a 
bridal  procession  going  up  its  great  aisles  to  music  of  the 
organ  and  chant  of  dusky  altar-boys,  and  picturing  the 
bride  with  blue  eyes  and  blonde  tresses,  thinks  to  him- 
self :  "Why  not  I  for  the  bridegroom?  I  am  not  old  ! 
She  i^  rich.  The  man  beside  me  is  weak.  Perhaps  with 
another  fortune  may  come  to  me  another  beauty." 

The  noise  of  the  moving  crowds  below  breaks  in  upon 
his  reverie,  and  Larchmont  suggests  :  "  Suppose  we  see 
the  ball.'' 

They  go  in  to  the  dance  where  Spanish  beauties,  in 
the  ball-dresses  of  Europe,  jostle  French  and.  Colombian 
uniforms  and  black  dress  coats  ;  and  the  grand  old  man 
dances  quadrilles  with  lovely  Inezes,  Marias,  and  Manu- 
elas,  to  have  his  agility  telegraphed  all  over  the  world,  so 
that  doubting  French  peasants  may  invest  their  stocking- 
hoards  in  his  newest  and  grandest  enterprise,  stilly  thinking 
him  the  man  of  Suez,  when  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps  is  in 
reality  beginning  a  dotage,  awful  in  its  consequences,  to 
his  friends,  his  government  and  his  country — because  it 
is  unsuspected. 

So  the  ball  goes  on  to  its  climax,  amid  the  strains  of 


BARON    MONTEZ.  5 1 

the  latest  waltzes,  and  the  clinking  of  champagne  glasses 
in  the  supper  room,  and  the  laughing  eyes  of  Spanish 
beauties,  and  the  babbling  tongues  of  sycophants  and 
hangers-on. 

And  on  this  night  of  triumph,  when  De-Lesseps  inaugu- 
rates the  work  on  the  Panama  Canal,  this  night  Fernando 
Montez  gives  to  himself  nobility  and  a  title  that  will 
give  him  weight  in  Europe  and  influence  over  weaklings 
like  the  one  he  has  set  his  eyes  upon  this  evening.  So  the 
black  drops  in  his  veins  become  blue,  azure,  and  noble  ; 
even  the  little  Congo  negro  he  has  in  him  changes  to  old 
Castilian,  as  he  exclaims  :  "  Fernando  Gomez  Montez,  I 
ennoble  thee  !  Mule-boy  of  Cruces,  I  introduce  you  to 
Baron  Montez !  " 

Full  of  his  project,  this  very  night  he  obtains  a  printer, 
who,  under  great  promise  of  secrecy,  for  which  he  is 
heavily  paid,  furnishes  early  the  next  morning  the  fol- 
lowing striking  carte  de  visite. 


'tZ-'lt^T^  >^/^'2Z.'/^'^^^ 


'-^ 


Panama 
and  Paris 


This  looks  so  beautiful  to  him  that  he  cannot  refrain 
from  trying  its  effect  early  next  morning. 

Old  Domingo,  who  is  older  by  twenty-four  years  since 
the  night  he  assisted  to  make  Montez  rich,  lives  with 
him,  not  as  servant,  but  as  kind  of  half-way  guest,  for 
the  old  man  is  well-to-do.  The  old  pirate  knows  the 
buccaneer  maxim  :  "  Every  man  his  share  ! "  And  he  had 
had  pirate  enough  in  him  to  compel  the  moiety  of  the 
American's  gold  due  him  from  Montez. 

On  this  he  has  lived  and  prospered,  and  though  well 
over  seventy,  is  still  as  hale  and  hearty  and  old  a  sinner 


52  BARON    MONTEZ. 

as  can  be  found  in  South  America— which  furnishes  as 
fine  a  sample  of  ruffians  as  Hades  itself. 

"  How  now,  Senor  ?  You  seem  happy  !  "  is  Domingo's 
greeting,  as  his  mentor  saunters  on  to  his  portico,  having 
finished  his  alligator  pear,  sucked  his  orange,  and  drank 
his  cup  of  coffee.     "  How  now,  Senor  Montez  ?  " 

"  Baron  Montez  !  "  corrects  the  gentleman  addressed, 
severely. 

''  Caramba  !  " 

"  After  this,  Baron  Montez  !  I  have  been  ennobled," 
remarks  Fernando,  shoving  his  ornamental  pasteboard 
beneath  Domingo's  rolling  orbs. 

"  Ho  oh  !  By  the  great  fat  Frenchman  who  is  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  great  Frenchman,  who  will  make  us  all 
rich." 

"  Sant  Jago  !  Another  massacre  !  There  are  lots  of 
them  here  now  !  Beauties,  too  !  Would  I  were 
younger  !  "  mutters  the  ex-pirate,  his  eyes  glowing  with 
pirate  gleam. 

*'  No,  not  this  time.  They  have  more  to  give  us  if 
we  let  them  live  !  "  returns  Montez  in  grim  significance. 
■  But  the  remembrance  brought  to  his  mind  of  that 
night  in  1856,  does  not  seem  to  please  him.  He  looks 
curiously  at  Dommgo,  then  gives  a  little  sigh  of  relief  ; 
the  appearance  of  his  co-laborer  indicates  he  will  be 
forever  close-mouthed.  Time  has  made  the  rest  safe. 
They  are  dead  ;  even  the  beautiful  Indian  girl,  Anita  of 
Toboga,  had  become  a  hag  at  twenty-five,  and  died  at 
thirty.  Beauty  that  the  sun  nourishes  most  fondly,  it 
soon  scorches  to  death  in  these  tropic  climes. 

So,  with  a  contented  smile,  Fernando  strolls  off,  to  put 
his  new  nobility  to  use. 

He  sends  up  his  card,  wuth  its  coronet,  to  the  Franco- 
American,  and  very  shortly  following  it  to  that  gentle- 
man's parlor  in  the  Grand  Hotel,  is  greeted  by  a  ''  Good 
morning,  Baron  !  "  and  an  effusive  grasp  of  the  hand. 

For  one  second  he  starts,  thinking  some  one  else  is 
addressed — it  is  not  easy  to  get  accustomed  to  nobility 
over  night — then,  with"  a  smile,  the  "new  creation" 
replies  with  affable  hauteur. 

Soon  after,  all  others  address  him  as  Baron  ;  none 
seeming  to  doubt  his  title,  for  these  curious  reasons  : 
The  French,  knowing  but  Httle  about  him,  think  he  is  a 


BARON    MONTEZ. 


53 


true  Spanish  Hidalgo.  His  Colombian  confreres,  some 
of  'Whom  have  known  him  even  when  he  was  an  altar-boy 
in  the  Cruces  chapel,  think  Fernando  has  received  his 
patent  of  nobility  in  some  peculiar  manner  from  le  grand 
Fraii^ais  De  Lesseps.  Besides  this,  they  are  very  much 
occupied  about  a  revolution  that  they  have  been  intend- 
ing to  put  in  progress,  but  have  postponed,  fearing  their 
political  shooting  and  slaying  might  delay  the  opening  of 
this  canal.  They  will,  however,  go  at  this  quite  merrily, 
as  soon  as  Monsieur  de  Lesseps  leaves  Panama.  So  it 
comes  to  pass  that  the  ex-mule-boy  of  the  Gargona  trail, 
el  muchacho  dtablo,  becomes  accepted  by  men  as  Fer- 
ando  Gomez,  Baron  Montez,  and  prepares  to  air  his  title 
m  the  salons  of  Europe  and  the  Parisian  Bourse. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


JESSIE  S   LETTER. 


After  this,  the  time  passes  pleasantly  for  the  great 
Frenchman  and  his  party  at  Panama  in  picnics,  sight- 
seeing, and  excursions  around  the  beautiful  bay.  They 
run  down  to  the  Pearl  Islands,  and  visit  Montez'  villa 
at  Toboga.  They  view  the  ruins  of  the  old  city,  and 
finally,  the  preliminary  reports  from  the  engineers  being 
received,  they  one  day  put  a  little  dynamite  cartridge 
into  the  great  mountain  of  Culebra,  which  will  be  the 
deepest  cut  on  the  whole  line,  and  blow  out  an  infinitesi- 
mal portion  of  its  great  side,  little  Mademoiselle  Fernanda 
de  Lesseps  touching  off  the  giant  powder  fuse,  and  an- 
nouncing that  work  has  really  commenced  on  the  great 
canal. 

Then  they  depart.  Monsieur  de  Lesseps  taking  steamer 
from  Colon  to  the  United  States  to  obtain  the  proper 
concessions  from  the  Panama  Railroad  Company  ne- 
cessary to  his  legally  carrying  out  his  project.  Baron 
Montez  and  his  Franco-American  friend,  however,  leave 
the  Isthmus  direct  for  France,  via  Martinique  and  St. 
Lucia. 

At  Martinique  they  stop  a  day  or  two,  and  chance 
in  a  local  museum  to  see  one  of  the  deadly  snakes  of 


54  BARON    MONTEZ. 

that  Island,  the  fer-de-lance,  at  which  they  all  shudder, 
but  Fernando  turns  very  white  and  trembles  ;  so  much  so, 
that  little  Jessie,  holding  her  governess'  arm,  says : 
*'  Mademoiselle,  why  is  Baron  Montez  so  afraid  of  a 
snake  ? " 

"J/^«  Dieu !  my  dear,"  replies  the  Frenchwoman, 
"  everybody  trembles  at  such  hideous,  crawling,  deadly 
things.     You  did— so  did  I  !  " 

'*  But  I  didn't  nearly  faint — and  he  is  a  man,  and  I  am 
only  a  Httle  girl  !  "  And  she  looks  with  wondering,  child-, 
ish  eyes  after  Montez,  who  has  moved  away  from  the  sight. 

But  they  soon  leave  this  island.  Two  weeks  later  finds 
them  at  that  centre  of  the  French  universe — the  great 
city  on  the  Seine — where  Francis  Leroy  Larchmont  settles 
down  in  a  beautiful  villa  on  the  residential  part  of  the 
Boulevard Malesherbes  near  the  pretty  little  Pare  Mo7ieeau 
with  his  little  ward  and  attendants,  and  Baron  Montez 
engages  fine  apartments  just  off  the  Boulevard  de  Capu- 
cines,  where  he  can  be  near  the  Press  Club  and  baccarat, 
an  amusement  in  which  he  takes  great  delight. 

He  soon  has  hosts  of  friends,  for  he  spends  his  money 
freely,  hoping  to  get  return  from  the  same  in  the  near 
future,  with  usurer's  interest. 

In  this  capital  of  France,  De  Lesseps,  soon  after  re- 
turning from  the  United  States,  inaugurates  his  great 
scheme.  The  shares  are  taken  by  the  peasants  of  France, 
every  village  has  its  subscriber,  work  is  begun  in  reality 
upon  the  canal. 

Then  comes  the  time  of  harvest  for  Montez.  He 
founds  the  firm  of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie. — Aguilla  be- 
ing practically  a  clerk,  with  a  nominal  interest — and  for 
it  obtains  a  contract  for  a  portion  of  the  work,  at  great 
figures.  He  circulates  between  Paris  and  Panama,  dab- 
bling in  contracts,  dabbling  in  shares,  and  making  money 
in  everything,  for  he  knows  what  takes  place  on  the 
Isthmus,  as  well  as  what  goes  on  in  Paris. 

All  the  time  he  is  doing  this,  investors'  money  is  being 
squandered  like  water,  and  the  shares  of  the  Canal  Com- 
pany go  lower  and  lower.  But  Montez  loses  not.  He 
has  become  too  near  the  Board  of  Directors  to  suffer;  he 
knows  too  much  of  the  inside  politics  of  the  scheme  to 
permit  its  magnates  to  let  him  lose  a  single  franc  in 
this  Canal  Interoceanic. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  55 

Besides,  he,  by  the  diplomatic  arts  of  entertaining  and 
o'pen  pocket  book,  is  now  a  boon  companion  with  many 
a  space-writer  for  the  press — a  class  vigorously  strong 
in  shrieking  their  incorruptibility,  and  very  pliable  to 
the  persuasive  check  book  and  bank  bill,  as  impecunious 
classes  generally  are.  Again,  he  has  a  few  easy  deputies 
of  the  Corps  Le'gislatifs  under  his  thumb,  owing  to  post- 
poned debts  at  baccarat  and  many  little  suppers  at  Des 
Ambassadeurs  and  le  Madrid  and  the  Alcazar.  In  fact, 
he  is  a  power  at  which  the  directors  of  the  canal  stand 
aghast,  and  would  strike  down  were  their  enterprise  upon 
a  basis  sufficiently  solid  for  them  not  to  fear  what  Fer- 
nando Baron  Montez'  ready  tongue  might  hint  to  stock- 
holders already  becoming  suspicious. 

But  stock  and  preferences  in  a  losing  concern,  to  make 
their  owner  rich  must  be  converted  into  money  of  the 
realm  and  more  substantial  securities.  To  do  this  it 
was  necessary  to  find  purchasers  ;  and  to  beguile,  allure 
and  dazzle  investors  to  transferring  their  gold  to  his 
pockets  ;  for  shares  in  the  Canal  Interoceanic  had  been 
Montez'  first,  great  and  continuous  effort  ever  since  he 
had  determined  the  enterprise  must  fall,  even  of  its  own 
weight. 

His  ready  tongue,  unscrupulous  assertion,  and,  if 
necessary,  direct  and  brilliant  lies,  had  gained  many 
listeners  and  some  believers,  notably  among  them  one 
Bastien  Lefort.  This  person,  curiously  enough,  was  a 
noted  miser,  who  had  lived  to  sixty,  saving  his  accumu- 
lations, adding  to  them  franc  by  franc  the  product  of 
not  only  a  life  of  toil,  but  a  life  of  absolute  deprivation. 
Beginning  as  a  clerk  in  a  small  booth,  he  had  saved  and 
pinched  till  he  had  become  a  shopkeeper  himself.  Then 
he  had  squeezed  and  accumulated  till  he  was  worth  nigh 
on  to  a  million  francs,  each  one  of  which  meant  not  so 
much  profit,  but  so  much  stint  and  discomfort  and  pri- 
vation— even  to  lack  of  fire  in  winter  and  lack  of  food  in 
summer.  This  hoarded  treasure  he  did  not  dare  invest 
in  real  estate — even  city  property  sometimes  depreciates. 
He  did  not  dare  deposit  in  a  bank — banks  fail — but  kept 
his  gold  in  safes  of  his  own  and  the  strong  box  of  the 
miser. 

All  his  life  Bastien  Lefort  had  said  he  was  looking  for  an 
investment — one  that  would  be  sure  as  the  Bank  of  France 


56  BARON    MONTEZ. 

but  would  return  large  usury — such  an  investment  he 
had  been  seeking  for  forty  years.  Within  three  months 
after  Baron  Montez  strolled  into  his  little  inagasin  de 
gants,  on  the  Rue  Rhwli,  to  buy  a  pair  of  gloves,  the 
Panama  philanthropist  found  it  for  him. 

Among  those  gathered  into  these  Panama  ventures 
is  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont.  From  the  year  1880  to 
1887  Fernando  has  been  gradually  involving  the  wealth 
of  the  Franco-American,  who  has  become  his  bosom 
friend  ;  and  not  content  with  this,  has  succeeded  in  draw- 
ing into  the  financial  maelstrom  that  is  now  running  over 
Paris,  the  fortune  of  the  orphan,  the  little  girl,  that  her 
weak  guardian  had  in  his  charge,  and  which  should  have 
been  secured  in  consols  and  collaterals  undoubted. 

So  one  day,  towards  the  close  of  the  year  1887,  Montez 
thinks  it  time  to  speak,  for  all  these  years  the  loveliness  of 
this  graceful  girl — this  American  beauty — this  fairy  beau- 
ty, who  is  still  in  the  schoolroom,  but  nearly  a  woman, 
has  appealed  more  and  m.ore  to  him.  He  has  looked 
upon  it,  and  says  it  shallbe  his.  He  has  whispered  to 
himself  :  "  These  people  are  in  the  toils.  I  am  wealthy 
as  a  New  York  nabob  !  I  will  marry  this  beautiful  creat- 
ure. The  loveliness  of  the  Baroness  Montez  shall  make 
her  a  queen  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  this  gay  capital, 
and  I  shall  be  one  of  its  princes— I,  Fernando  Gomez 
Montez,  once  mule-boy  on  the  Cruces  trail  !  " 

Thinking  this,  he  one  day  calls  upon  his  bosom  friend, 
Francois  Leroy  Larchmont,  who  is  just  admiring  a  newly 
purchased  picture,  for  this  gentleman  is  a  dilettante  in 
everything  artificial,  and  dabbles  in  paintings,  scores  of 
unproduced  operas,  and  manuscript  verses  and  novels  ; 
dealing  with  the  prodigality  of  a  connoisseur,  and  the  lack 
of  knowledge  of  an  amateur. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Larchmont,  n?i  afutgo,  on  a 
particular  subject." 

'*Yes,  but  first  admire  the  beauty  of  this  picture, 
Montez.  The  head  is  that  of  a  newly  discovered 
Madonna !  " 

"  Ah,  but  not  as  beautiful  as  Mademoiselle  Jessie,  your 
ward." 

"Why,  Montez,  she  is  but  a  child  !  " 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  time  she  should  marry.  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you  of  her \  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  57 

Turning  from  his  painting,  in  his  nonchalant  way, 
Fran9ois  Leroy  Larchmont  hears  words  that  give  him  a 
fearful  shock. 

He  remonstrates. 

Then  the  easy  tone  of  the  friend  changes  to  the  voice 
of  the  master  ;  and  before  the  interview  is  over,  this  weak 
and  untrustworthy  creature  has  given  such  hostage  to  his 
enslaver  that  makes  him  ashamed  to  look  his  lovely 
charge  in  the  face  ;  for  he  knows  in  his  feeble  heart  he 
has  done  the  act  of  the  dastard  and  the  coward. 

"Now  while  this  has  been  going  on,  several  times  in  the 
years  between  1880  and  1887,  Frangois  Leroy  Larch- 
mont has  received  visits  from  his  younger  brother  Harry 
Sturgis  Larchmont,  who  has  come  over  from  the  United 
States  when  his  collegiate  course  has  been  finished,  and  has 
assumed,  in  his  off-hand,  American  style,  the  role  of  a 
relative,  and  the  good  comradeship  of  a  friend,  to  his 
brother's  pretty  ward. 

This  has  been  done  in  the  easy  manner  of  youth. 

Once,  on  his  visit  after  his  college  days  at  Yale,  he 
had  upheld  her  against  guardian  and  governess  in  a  way 
that  had  endeared  him  greatly  to  Miss  Rebel. 

It  was  one  Fourth  of  July.  Harry  had  come  in  the 
dusk  of  the  day  to  dress  for  the  banquet  in  honor  of  the 
United  States  at  the  American  Minister's. 

He  is  talking  to  his  brother  in  the  salon  which  looks 
out  upon  a  little  courtyard  made  pretty  by  flower  beds, 
and  a  graceful  kiosk  in  which  the  gentlemen  sometimes 
take  their  breakfasts. 

Harry  has  just  remarked,  *'  Frank,  I'm  sorry  you  sent 
a  regret  to  Mr.  Washburn's  invitation.  It  looks  as  if  you 
had  forgotten  George  Washington  and  fire  crackers." 

"  My  dear  Henri,"  lisps  the  elder  brother,  "  I  have 
promised  to  listen  to  a  new  manuscript  comedy.  Faran- 
dol,  le  Jeujie,  its  author,  thinks  I  have  influence  with  the 
management  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and  may  get  it  pro- 
duced. As  for  fire-crackers  and  such  juvenile  nuisances — " 
Here  he  gives  a  great  start,  and  cries,  '^Mon  Dieu!  What 
is  that  ?     Dynamite  ?  " 

For  a  loud  explosion  has  just  come  from  the  garden, 
and  Parisians,  in  grateful  memory  of  the  Commune,  al- 
ways fear  dynamite  and  Anarchists. 

"  I  rather  imagine  that  is  a  little  piece  of  the  Fourth  of 


^S  -BARON    MONTEZ. 

July,"  laughs  Harry,  who  has  made  Miss  Severn  a  patri- 
otic present  of  fireworks  and  fire-crackers  this  very 
morning. 

A  moment  after,  Jessie,  with  defiant  face  that  is 
slightly  grimed  with  gunpowder  and  burning  punk,  and 
a  bunch  of  fire-crackers  in  her  hand,  is  dragged  into 
the  room  by  her  governess  and  an  attendant  maid. 

*'  In  spite  of  my  protestations  and  commands  she  has 
exploded  them  in  the  bed  of  daisies,  Monsieur  Larch- 
mont,"  says  the  duenna,  looking  with  reproving  eyes  upon 
her  charge  who  stands  pouting  but  unrepentant. 

^'Mon  Dieu!  My  white  daisies  !  "  cries  Mr.  Frangois  ; 
then  he  remarks  sternly  :  "  This  is  most  unseemly  ! 
Jessie,  don't  you  know  it  is  wrong  to  disobey  your 
governess — wrong  to  make  a  noise,  and  disturb  me  with 
explosions?" 

''  Not  on  the  Fourth  of  July  !  "  mutters  the  child.  Then 
her  eyes  flash,  and  she  cries,  "  I  will  fire  them  !  I'm 
American  !  I  ain't  French,  and  I  will  fire  them  !  "  and  em- 
phasizes her  declaration  by  defiant  eyes  and  stamping  feet. 

"  Oh,  this  is  terrible  !  "  murmurs  Mr.  Larchmont. 

"If  you  would  permit  me,"  suggests  the  instructress, 
"  I  think  Miss  Jessie  should  be  put  to  bed." 

''What  !  for  being  a  patriot?"  cries  Harry,  intruding 
on  the  scene.  Then  the  young  man  goes  on  firmly, 
"Jessie  shall  celebrate  the  Fourth,  and  I'll  help  her." 

"But,  Henri,"  expostulates  his  brother,  "the  gens- 
d'armes  will  arrest  me.  It  is  violating  a  municipal  ordi- 
nance," 

"  Then  you  pay  the  fine,  or  I'll  do  it  for  you,"  returns 
the  younger  man.  "You  go  off  to  your  comedy  reading, 
and  Miss  Jessie  and  I'll  make  a  patriotic  night  of  it." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  cries  the  girl  ;  then  she  comes  to  him 
and  puts  her  arms  about  him,  after  the  manner  of  trusting 
childhood,  and  whispers,  "  I  knew  you  would.  You're  a 
Yankee,  so  am  I." 

"  You  bet  !  "  says  Harry,  giving  way  to  slang  in  this 
moment  of  patriotic  enthusiasm.  "  You  and  I,  Jessie, 
are  the  only  Americans  in  this  house." 

"  Well,  have  your  will  !  "  repHes  the  older  brother.  "  I'll 
go  off  to  the  reading  and  get  away  from  the  noise.  —Jes- 
sie, come  and  kiss  me  good-night." 

"  I  won't,"  returns  Miss  Jessie.    "  You  would  have  let 


BARON    MONTEZ.  59 

Mademoiselle  put  me  to  bed  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Harry 
— Harry's  my  chevalier.'' 

*'  You  won't  kiss  me,"  mutters  the  child's  guardian. 
Then  he  astonishes  his  brother,  for  he  goes  to  his  pout- 
ing charge,  and  says  :  ''  I  beg  your  pardon,  little  one. 
Won't  that  get  a  kiss  ?  " 

"  Yes,  two  !  "  answers  Jessie,  and  gives  him  three  very 
sweet  ones,  for  her  guardian  is  very  kind  to  her,  and  gen- 
erally lets  her  do  her  will  except  when  it  disturbs  his 
e^^e  or  puts  him  to  trouble. 

So  Harry  and  Jessie  go  off  to  their  fireworks,  where, 
amid  revolving  pin-wheels  and  colored  lights,  the  little 
lady  in  her  dainty  Parisian  dress  looks  like  a  miniature 
Goddess  of  Liberty,  though  Mademoiselle,  her  governess, 
shakes  her  head  ;  and  the  maid,  whose  white  apron  has 
been  soiled  and  her  cap  put  awry,  and  her  skin  some- 
what bruised  by  the  struggles  of  Miss  Rebel  when  she 
had  been  dragged  in,  mutters  :  "  If  I  had  my  way  with 
Miss  Vixen,  I'd  smack  her  good." 

After  this  Miss  Jessie  looks  upon  Harry  Larchmont  as 
her  Court  of  Appeals  from  all  decisions  against  her  childish 
whims.  And  when,  some  time  after,  a  pretty  trinket  of 
gold  and  jewels,  commemorative  of  this  event,  comes  to 
her  from  New  York,  it  does  not  tend  to  make  her  forget 
her  Fourth  of  July  champion. 

This  very  year,  when  he  is  making  a  little  tour  of  Eu- 
rope, Miss  Severn  has  renewed  her  trust  in  him,  and  they 
have  grown  greater  friends.  The  exquisite  beauty  and 
grace  of  the  girl  have  appealed  to  him,  as  they  would  to 
any  man,  though  she  has  seen  but  few,  being  still  kept 
at  her  studies  much  closer  than  Mr.  Harry  Larchmont 
thinks  is  necessary.  For,  on  leaving  for  his  German  trip 
he  has  remarked  to  his  brother ;  "  Why  not  bring  Jessie 
over  to  America,  put  her  in  society,  and  marry  her  to  an 
American  ?  " 

"  She  is  too  young  for  society." 

"  She  is  not  too  young  to  have  a  good  time.  Give  her 
a  chance  at  a  beau  anyway.  Whether  she  marries  or 
does  not,  just  at  present  is  of  no  particular  moment ;  but 
her  enjoyment  is  !  " 

"  I  will  consider  your  suggestion,  Henri,"  says  the 
brother,  a  wistful  expression  coming  over  his  face,  but 
his  answer  is  cut  short. 


6o  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Confound  it  !  Don't  call  me  Henri,  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  would  ever  call  you  Fran9oi3  ?  "  bursts  in  the 
younger  brother.  Then  he  goes  on  quite  dictatorially, 
"  Frank,  be  an  American,  and  a  man.  Leave  this  foreign 
place  where  you  are  dawdling  away  your  existence  !  " 

"  And  what  are  you  doing  in  America  ?  " 

"  Nothing  I  " 

•*  Am  I  not  doing  the  same  in  Paris  ?  "  says  the  other, 
with  an  attempt  at  a  laugh,  which  changes  into  a  sigh  as 
he  continues,  "  I  wish  I  could  leave  Paris  !  " 

'*  What  keeps  you  ?  " 

"  My  interests." 

"  Pooh  !  your  fortune  is  well  invested,  and  you  can 
sell  this  pretty  little  villa  at  a  profit,  even  now,  notwith- 
standing Panama  shares  have  gone  down  !  "  answers  the 
younger  brother.  So,  departing  upon  his  journey,  he 
thinks  he  will  have  an  hour  in  Dresden,  a  week  in 
Vienna,  three  days  in  Berlin,  and  get  home  for  the  first 
Patriarchs'  ball  of  the  season  in  New  York. 

Curiously  enough,  this  young  gentleman,  though  a 
man  of  fashion,  has  a  good  deal  of  action  in  him  ;  though 
nominally  he  does  nothing,  he  is  energy  itself,  killing 
time  by  athletics,  hunting,  pigeon  shooting.  He  is  very 
good  at  some  of  these  sports,  which,  if  they  do  not 
exactly  elevate  a  man,  at  least  keep  his  muscles  in  con- 
dition, and  his  mind  active.  He  has  been  a  great  foot- 
ball player,  and  is  still  remembered  in  his  college  as  a 
wonderful  half  back.  He  leads  the  German  at  Del- 
monico  balls,  with  a  vigor  that  startles  the  languid 
youths  who  perform  in  the  cotillon  ;  and  young  ladies 
afe  very  happy  to  have  his  strong  arm  as  a  guide,  and  his 
potent  elbow  as  a  guard  from  collisions  in  the  dance,  for 
he  has  not  yet  forgotten  an  old  football  frick. 

His  innocent  looking  elbow  has  many  times  caused 
young  Johnnie  Ballet,  who  dances  so  recklessly,  and 
Von  Duzen  Van  Bobbins,  who  prances  about  so  carelessly, 
10  v/onder  why  they  so  suddenly  get  extremely  faint  and 
out  of  breath,  when  they  come  in  contact  with  his  deft 
elbow.  But  they  have  not  played  on  college  cainpi^  and 
do  not  know  how  effective  this  elbow  has  been  in  put- 
ting many  a  Princeton  rusher  out  of  play,  and  many  a 
Harvard  slugger  on  the  ground,  in  the  desperate  scrim- 
mages of  the  football  field. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  6l 

It  is  late  in  1887  when  Harry  Larchmont  goes  away 
for  his  German  tour,  in  the  careless,  easy  frame  of  mind 
that  he  has  been  wont  so  far  to  run  through  life.  Three 
days  afterwards,  at  Cologne,  he  receives  an  agitated 
letter  from  Miss  Jessie  Severn,  praying  him  to  come  to 
her  for  heaven's  sake,  before  he  leaves  for  America. 
Its  end  gives  this  easy-going  young  athlete  a  start,  for 
it  closes  : 

"  Dear  good  Harry,  as  you  love  the  inemory  of  your 
^t'other,  don't  let  your  brother  know  I  wrote  this. 

Your  frightened  to  death 

Jessie." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  NO  !        BY    ETERNAL    JUSTICE  !  " 

The  words  are  blotted  with  tears,  and  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  epistle  is  such  as  to  give  the  young 
man  a  shock.  He  throws  this  off,  however,  remarking  to 
himself,"  Pshaw  !  she's  only  a  child  in  short  dresses  yet ! 
1  presume  she  must  have  been  naughty.  Even  if  she  has 
been  disobedient  she  needn't  fear  Frank,  he  is  gentleness 
itself  to  her."  But  this  evasive  kind  of  reasoning  does 
not  suit  him.  After  communing  with  himself  fifteen 
minutes  the  action  of  the  man  comes  into  play.  He  was 
dawdling  by  the  Rhine.  He  dawdles  no  more.  And  in 
one  hour  afterwards  he  is  en  route  to  Paris,  as  fast  as  an 
express  train  can  take  him. 

Arriving  there  next  day,  he  goes  over  from  the  Gare 
du  Nordy  as  fast  as  a  fiacre  can  take  him,  to  the  pretty 
little  villa  on  the  Boulevard  Malesherbes. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Henri,  you  have  come  back  from  Ger- 
many," says  the  footman,  opening  the  door,  a  grin  of 
welcome  upon  his  Briton  face,  for  this  young  gentleman 
has  endeared  himself  to  the  servitor  by  many  fees. 

"  Yes,  you  need  not  mention  the  matter  to  my  brother, 
if  he's  at  home,"  says  Mr.  Larchmont,  "  but  1  presume 
he  is  out  ?" 

"  I  think  he  is  at  the  Bourse.'' 

*•  At  the  Bourse  ?     That  is  rather  astonishing." 

*'  Oh,  he  goes  there  every  day,  now,"  answers  the  man. 


62  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  The  dickens  !  "  ejaculates  Mr.  Harry,  and  this  infor- 
mation would  set  him  wondering,  did  not  another  idea  fill 
his  mind.  He  says  :  *'  Step  upstairs,  please,  Robert,  and 
tell  Miss  Jessie  that  I  am  here,  and  would  like  to  see 
her." 

"  Mademoiselle  Jessie  is  at  her  lessons,"  replies  the 
footman,  "  and  I  don't  think  the  governess  cares  to  have 
her  disturbed." 

**  Never  mind  about  the  studies,  Robert,  I  have  only  a 
few  hours  to  stay  in  Paris.  Just  show  me  up  to  the  school- 
room, and  I  will  break  in  upon  the  lessons,  and  help  her 
with  them,"  returns  Mr.  Harry,  and  walks  up  to  find  Miss 
Jessie  and  get  a  surprise. 

As  he  opens  the  schoolroom  door  and  looks  in  upon 
her  she  is  prettier  than  ever,  but  not  wearing  out  her  blue 
eyes  over  books,  though  there  is  a  troubled  look  in  them. 
She  springs  up  with  a  cry  of  joy,  and,  as  he  gazes  at 
her,  he  notes  that  during  his  few  days'  absence  an  occult 
change  seems  to  have  come  over  the  girl.  Her  short 
skirts  had  seemed  to  him  her  proper  costume  ;  now  as 
she  glides  toward  him  they  appear  too  juvenile. 

She  utters  a  warning  "  Sh-h-h  !  "  and  puts  a  taper 
finger  to  her  lips,  then  whispers  :  "  My  governess  is  in 
the  next  room.  She  thinks  I  am  studying,  but  I  was 
thinking — thinking  ;  "  next  gasps,  "  Harry  !  Dear  good 
Harry!  God  bless  you  for  coming  to  me!"  and  the 
pathos  in  her  manner,  and  look  in  her  eye,  tell  him  that 
a  great  trouble  has  come  into  this  child's  life. 

"  I  am  here,"  he  says,  astonished  at  the  girl's  manner, 
"to  do  anything  you  wish,  Jessie  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  you 
should  have  applied  to  my  brother,  who  is  your  guardian, 
before  coming  to  me." 

**  It  is  he  who  makes  me  come  to  you  !  " 

"  My  brother  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  Your  awful  brother  is  using  his  authority  as 
my  guardian.  After  the  horrid  manner  of  the  French,  he 
has  betrothed  me." 

"  Be — betrothed  you  ? "  stammers  the  young  man  shortly 
in  intense  surprise. 

"Yes,  to  that  odious  Baron  Montez  !  " 

"  What,  that  old  stock-jobber  ?  He's  twice  your  age  ! 
You  are  but  a  child." 

**  I  am  seventeen,  and,  in  spite  of  training,  an  American 


BARON    MONTEZ.  65 

seventeen  ;  and  that  is  old  enough  to  know  that  I  never 
will  marry  Baron  Montez  !  "  cries  Miss  Jessie,  angry  at 
the  suggestion  of  youth,  more  angry  at  the  thought  of 
Montez. 

"  Oh,  ho,  you  love  another  !  "  laughs  the  young  man,  who 
tries  to  take  this  matter  quite  easily  before  the  ward, 
though  great  indignation  has  come  to  him  against  the 
guardian, 

"  No,  I  love  no  one  !  I  hate  everyone.  Rather  than 
ma¥iy  Fernando  Montez,"  falters  the  girl,  her  lips  grow- 
ing pouting  and  trembling,  "  I'd  sooner  go  into  a 
convent." 

Whereupon  the  gentleman  says,  in  offhand  manner  : 
"  Pooh  !  Pooh  !  No  convent  for  such  a  beauty  as 
yours." 

"  And  you  will  save  me,  even  though  your  brother  uses 
his  authority  as  my  guardian?  " 

"  Certainly  !  "  says  the  young  man. 

"  Swear  it  !  " 

"Very  well,  you  have  my  promise,"  returns  Harry  who 
is  loath  to  take  the  affair  seriously  ;  "  but  I  don't  think  you 
need  have  troubled  me.  Had  you  spoken  to  my  brother, 
he  would  have  most  assuredly  not  tried  to  coerce  your 
inclination  in  such  a  matter." 

But  here  Jessie's  words  bring  astonishment,  disgust, 
and  displeasure  against  the  man  he  calls  brother,  to  the 
gentleman  facing  the  excited  girl.  She  whispers:  "I 
have  told  your  brother  !  I  have  told  him  that  I  loathed, 
I  detested,  I  hated  the  man  he  wished  me  to  marry  !  " 

"  And  he  did  not  listen  to  you  ? " 

"  No  !  He  said  it  was  absurd  for  me  to  rebel  against 
his  lawful  authority.  That  I  must,  and  I  should,  do 
what  he  told  me." 

"  He  did,  did  he  ?  Then  hang  him  !  I  swear  you  shall 
not  !  "  cries  the  young  man,  for  something  in  Jessie's 
manner  tells  him  she  is  speaking  from  her  heart.  "You 
shall  only  marry  the  man  you  want  to  !  " 

So  he  leaves  the  young  lady  reassured,  and  strolls  over 
mto  the  Pare  Al'onccau  (his  brother  not  having  returned 
from  the  Bourse)^  and  communes  with  himself  in  the  ex- 
quisite little  pleasure  ground,  looking  at  the  beautiful 
?iaumachie  and  rock  grotto,  and  would  reflectively  toss 
stones  into  the  lake,  did  not  a  gend''ari7ie  restrain  him. 


64  BARON    MONTEZ. 

And  all  the  time  his  eyes  grow  more  determined,  and  the 
indignation  in  his  heart  against  his  brother  increases. 

Then  he  strolls  back  to  the  house,  and  Mr.  Francois 
Larchmont  being  at  home,  walks  into  that  gentleman's 
library,  with  a  very  nasty  look  upon  his  countenance. 

"You  here.?"  says  Frank,  starting  up  with  unnerved 
face.     "  This  is  a  surprise  !  " 

*'  Yes,"  says  the  other  nonchalantly.  "  In  Cologne  I 
received  a  letter  from  Miss  Severn — I  suppose  we  must 
call  her  Miss  Severn,  since  you  consider  her  old  enough 
to  marry.  By  the  by,  I  think  you  had  better  have  her 
governess  put  her  in  long  skirts;  she's  been  growing 
lately." 

While  he  has  said  this,  notwithstanding  Harry's  man- 
ner, Frank's  face  has  become  white.  He  suddenly  asks  : 
"  Did  that  stop  your  journey  ? " 

"  Certainly  !  An  appeal  from  a  woman  would  stop 
any  man's  journey.  I  have  seen  your  ward.  She  tells 
me  what  I  find  it  very  hard  to  believe — that  you  wish 
to  exercise  your  authority  as  her  guardian,  to  coerce  her 
into  marrying  this  South-American  stock-jobber,  and 
gambler — Baron  Fernando  Montez.     Is  it  true  ?  " 

*'  It  is,"  falters  the  other.  "  I  wish  her  to  marry  him  !  " 
Then  he  goes  on  suddenly,  noting  the  look  of  disgust 
upon  his  brother's  face,  '-  Don't  misunderstand  me, 
Henri,  it  is  necessary.  She  has  now  arrived  at  the  age 
when  it  is  best  for  her — for  any  young  woman — to  enter 
the  world  ;  and  to  do  that  in  France,  it  is  necessary  for 
her  to  take  a  husband." 
'   ''  But  not  such  a  husband.  " 

"  He  will  give  her  title." 

"  Pooh  !  titles  are  common  here." 

"  He  will  accept  her — and  this  is  the  important  part  of 
the  matter — without  a  dot. " 

*'  IVithozit  a  dot?  Why,  she  is  worth  a  million  dollars 
in  her  own  right." 

"  Nevertheless  she  will  have  no  dot  /  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  gasps  the  other. 

Then  Frank  bursts  out  hurriedly  :  "  Don't  look  at  me 
so.     I  have  lost  Jessie's  money  in  speculation." 

"  Then  you  must  make  it  up  out  of  your  own  fortune. 
You  are  a  very  rich  man  !  " 

"  I  was." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  65 

''  Good  heavens  I  have  you  lost  that  also  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  involved.  At  present  I  could  not,  if  called 
upon,  hand  over  Miss  Severn's  fortune,  which  was  en- 
trusted to  me  by  her  father's  will,  when  I  gave  her  to 
her  husband.  In  France  it  would  be  demanded  at 
once,  if  any  one  else  except  Baron  Montez  married 
her." 

"  And  you  have  lost  all  this  money — in  what  ?  " 

*'  In  the  shares  of  the  Panama  Canal,  I  think." 

*'ln  the  Panama  Canal,  you  think V  sneers  Harry. 
Then  he  scoffs  :  '^  You — you  are  the  only  American  wlio 
has  not  made  money  out  of  that  giant  fraud  ?  You  are 
so  afraid  of  being  thought  a  man  of  business,  that  you 
have  let  that  swindling  South  American  make  you  bank- 
rupt ? " 

"1 — I  do  not  know — my  affairs  are  involved.  I  have 
entered  into  so  many  speculations  with  Baron  Montez." 

"  Ah,  he  has  your  money  !  "  cries  the  New  Yorker. 
"  He  has  Miss  Severn's  money.  He  has  got  the  dot  be- 
fore. Now  he  will  take  the  bride,  generous  man,  with- 
out it,  but  she  shall  not  marry  him !  I  have  sworn 
it!" 

"  Great  heavens  !     You  would  ruin  me  !  " 

"  I  would  ruin  everyone  to  save  this  girl's  happiness  !  " 

"  You — you  love  Jessie  ?  "  gasps  Frank  with  twitching 
lips. 

"  As  a  brother  !  That  is  all.  But  it  is  well  enough  to 
see  she  is  not  wronged  by  you  !  " 

"  You  forget  I  am  her  guardian  !  " 

"  And  I  am  her  protector  !  She  shall  not  marry  Baron 
Montez  !  I'll  prevent  it  with  my  fortune — with  my  life  ! 
Do  you  suppose  I  will  stand  by  and  see  a  lovely,  beauti- 
ful, young  American  girl  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  your 
speculations  ?     No  !     By  eternal  justice  !  " 

"  You  will  save  her  ?  "  asks  Frangois  Leroy  Larchmont, 
a  curious  wistful  look  coming  into  his  uncertain  eyes. 

"  Yes !  " 

"  God  bless  you  !  "  cries  the  man,  and  sinks  down  into 
a  chair,  sobs  in  his  voice,  but  no  tears  in  his  eyes. 

*'  Why  do  5^ou  thank  me  for  saving  her  from  your 
friend  ? " 

"  He  is  not  my  friend  !  I  hate  him  !  I  fear  him  !  I 
loathe  him  now,  but  I  am  in  his  power  !     But  thank  God  ! 


66  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Henri,"  and  the  weak  man  has  seized  his  brother's  hand 
and  wrung  it,  and  is  muttering  to  him  :  *'  Thank  God  ! 
you  will  save  her — save  her  from  marrying  him — save 
her  for  me — for  me — I  love  her  !  " 

"  Not  for  you  !  "  cries  the  other,  breaking  away  from 
his  brother's  grasp,  and  an  awful  contempt  coming  into 
his  soul.  "You  are  not  worthy  of  her.  You  love  no 
one  but  yourself,  and  that  not  well  enouj^h  to  fight  for 
your  own  hopes,  desires  or  loves  !  When  you  re- 
nounced your  country,  you  gave  up  manhood  !  But  111 
save  her  for  some  good  American  !  " 

With  that  he  leaves  his  brother,  who  has  sunk  down, 
and  is  cowering  away  from  Harry  Larchmont's  indignant 
eyes,  and  goes  up  to  again  see  the  lovely  girl  her  guard- 
ian's weakness  would  have  sacrificed,  and  tells  her  to  be 
of  good  cheer,  that  he  will  save  her.  "  Only  one  thing — 
procrastinate  this  matter,"  he  adds.  Then  he  queries 
wistfully,  "  Can  you  be  woman  enough  to  procrastinate  ? 
Are  you  still  a  child  ?  " 

"  Why  not  defy  him  ?  With  you  by  my  side  I'll  snap 
my  fingers  in  Montez'  face." 

"That,"  says  the  young  man,  wincing  a  little,  "will 
require  a  sacrifice  from  me."  For  he  knows,  if  matters 
come  to  a  climax  now,  to  give  this  girl  her  fortune  and 
keep  his  brother's  name  in  honor  before  the  world,  will 
sadly  cripple  his  means  and  make  him  comparatively 
poor. 

Looking  in  his  face  the  girl  says  suddenly:  "No,  I 
see  it  is  important.  I  am  not  child  enough  to  ask  too 
much.     1  will  do  as  you  say." 

"  In  every  way  ?  " 

"  In  every  way." 

"  Then  procrastinate.  Get  my  brother  to  bring  you 
over  to  New  York  for  this  winter  ;  put  off  the  wedding 
till  the  spring— till  the  autumn.  If  Frank  demurs,  tell 
him  you  will  write  to  me,  and  that  will  settle  the  affair, 
I  think." 

"  You — you  are  going  away  ?  "  falters  the  child,  grow- 
ing pale  at  the  thought  of  his  desertion. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  away." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  To  save  you." 

"  How  ? " 


6^ 

"  To  find  out  more  about  this  man,  who  has  my  brother 
in  his  power — this  Baron  Montez  of  Panama  and  Paris. 
Here  he  is  surrounded  by  all  the  Panama  clique  ;  there 
is  no  rent  in  his  armor  that  I,  an  American,  unaccustomed 
to  the  ways  of  Paris,  can  pierce.  If  he  has  a  flaw  in  his 
cuirass,  it  is  at  the  other  end  of  the  route.  I  am  going  to 
Panama.  Please  God,  I'll  nail  him  there!  I  leave  this 
evening  for  England.  Then  to  New  York,  to  arrange 
several  matters  of  business,  for  if  the  worst  comes  to  the 

worst " 

"  You  will  permit  me  to  be  sacrificed  ? " 

*'  Never  I     It  is  for  that  I  go  to  New  York." 

"  But  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  you " 

"  It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  go  to  New  York.  Don't 
ask  me  questions.  Only  know  that  I  am  forever  your 
protector.  What  my  brother  has  forgotten,  I  will  do  ; 
his  dishonor  shall  be  effaced  by  me." 

"  His  dishonor  !  "  cries  the  girl.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  I  can  tell  you  ;  but  good-by,  Jessie. 
Be  sure  of  one  thing— that  you  need  never  marry  Baron 
Montez  of  Panama  !  " 

"  God  bless  you  !  "  cries  the  girl,  and  gives  him  the 
first  kiss  she  has  ever  given  him  in  her  life.  But  it  is  the 
kiss  of  the  child,  not  of  the  woman.  The  kiss  of  grati- 
tude—the kiss  that  beauty  gives  to  the  knight  that  risks 
his  life  to  save  her  from  the  giant  Despair. 

Twenty-four  hours  after,  Harry  Larchmont  sailed  for 
New  York  on  the  Efruria,  and  a  month  later  his  brother 
brought  his  ward  to  America  upon  the  Gallia;  but  Baron 
Montez  said  to  him,  "  Remember,  ^non  ami,  you  must 
bring  her  back  by  Easter.  Spring-time  in  France  will 
suit  Mademoiselle  Jessie's  beauty." 

Four  weeks  after  the  Larchmonts  arrive  in  New  York 
a  letter  comes  to  Fernando,  from  a  co-laborer  of  his  in 
the  Panama  scheme,  one  Herr  Alsatius  Wernig,  who  is 
in  America  on  some  joint  business,  and  will  shortly  pro- 
ceed to  the  Isthmus. 

This  epistle  contains  some  curious  news  about  the 
Larchmonts. 

After  reading  it  the  Baron's  face  grows  grave  for  a 
moment,  then    it  suddenly  lights  up.     Montez,  with  a 


68  BARON    MONTEZ. 

jeering  smile,  exclaims  :  "What  ?  That  idiot  who  plays 
football  and  takes  the  chance  of  being  killed /.s'r  fun  l'' 
A  moment  later  he  remarks  meditatively :  "  There  is 
always-  danger  in  a  lunatic  !  "  and  an  hour  afterwards 
sends  a  carefully  prepared  cablegram  to  Herr  Alsatius 
Wernig  in  New  York. 


BOOK    III. 
'*"'      The  American   Brother. 


CHAPTER  vni. 

THE  stenographer's  DAY-DREAM. 

\Exiracts  from  the  diary  of 
Miss  Louise  Ripley  Minturn^ 

n  A  TYPEWRITER,  I  believc  ?  " 

"  A  stenographer,"  I  reply  as  sternly  and  indignantly 
as  an  Italian  tenor  accused  of  being  in  the  chorus, 
"  stefwgrapher  !  " 

"  Oh,  excuse  me,  mademoiselle  !  Certainly,  a  stenog- 
rapher— that  is  what  we  require.  What  salary  will  you 
ask  to  go  to  Panama,  to  act  as  stenographer?  " 

*'  To  Fan-a-ma  ?  "  There  is  an  excited  tremolo  in  my 
voice  as  I  say  the  words,  for  the  proposition  is  unex- 
pected, and  the  distance  from  New  York  perhaps  awes 
me  a  little.  "  Panama,  where  they  are  constructing  the 
great  canal  ?  " 

*'  Certainly,  mademoiselle.  It  is  because  they  are 
building  the  great  canal  that  I  ask  you  the  question." 

"  What  will  be  the  cost  of  living  there  ?  " 

*'  That  I  hardly  know.  It  will  not  be  small,  I  am  cer- 
tain, judging  by  the  bills  of  expense  I  have  seen  from 
there." 

"Very  well,"  I  reply,  American  business  tact  coming 
to  me,  "  if  I  go,  we  will  say  thirty  dollars  a  week,  and 
expenses." 

"  You  are  able  to  take  stenographic  dictation  in  Eng- 
lish ?  " 


70  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"Certainly." 

"  And  in  French  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  will  be  ten  dollars  a  week  more." 

"  And  in  Spanish  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.     Ten  dollars  extra." 

"  Ah,"  remarks  the  little  clerk,  who  is  half  American 
and  half  French,  "  your  charges  are  high  ;  but  every  one 
gets  their  own  price — on  the  Isthmus." 

Prompted  by  this  ingenuous  remark,  and  actuated  by 
American  business  greed,  I  ejaculate  hurriedly :  "  I 
also  take  dictation  in  German,  which  will  be  another  ten 
dollars  a  week." 

"  Let  me  try  you,"  says  the  little  man  ;  and  in  six  min- 
utes he  has  given  me  English,  French,  Spanish  and 
German  dictations,  to  my  astonishment,  and  I  have 
taken  them  down,  and  read  them  correctly,  much  more 
to  his  amazement. 

"  Your  work  is  perfectly  satisfactory  in  every  lan- 
guage," he  replies.  *'  You  will  come  on  the  terms  you 
mentioned  ?  " 

"  That  is,  sixty  dollars  a  week,  and  expenses  there  and 
back,"  I  say,  "  if  I  go." 

"  Ah,  you  are  not  certain  you  would  like  to  leave  New 
York  ?     You  have  ties  here  ?  " 

"  None,"  I  reply,  a  tremble  getting  into  my  voice,  as 
I  think  of  my  loneliness,  and  of  my  mother,  who  passed 
away  from  me  but  a  year  before. 

"You  would  like  time  to  consider  the  proposition?" 
suggests  my  interviewer. 

■  Looking  around  upon  the  dingy  copying  establish- 
ment of  Miss  Work  in  Nassau  Street,  the  girls  slaving 
over  interminable  legal  documents  on  their  type-writing 
machines,  and  thinking  of  the  drudgery  that  has  been, 
and  still  promises  to  be  my  lot,  I  say  desperately :  "  Yes, 
I  will  go  !  " 

"  Very  well.  Remember,  you  must  sign  a  contract  for 
a  year  from  to-morrow.  That  is  till  the  twentieth  of 
March,  1889." 

"  Yes." 

"  You  must  be  ready  to  start  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Certainly.  Only,  of  course,  as  I  said  before,  my 
contract  includes  a  first-cabin  passage  to  and  from 
Panama." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  7I 

"  It  shall  be  as  I  have  promised.  Call  at  the  office  of 
Flandreau  &  Co.,  No.  33^  South  Street,  to-morrow  at 
eleven,  for  your  instructions  and  contract.  Good  after- 
noon— Miss  Minturn,  I  believe  your  name  is?" 

"Yes;  make  out  the  contract  for  Louise  Ripley  Min- 
turn. But  you  have  not  told  me  the  name  of  the  person 
by  whom  I  am  to  be  employed." 

"  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  Contractors  Construction, 
Panama.  You  can  ask  about  them  at  the  agents  of  the 
canal,  Seligman  &  Co.,  bankers,  or  the  French  Consul 
— are  these  references  satisfactory  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  I  gasp,  overcome  by  the  solidity  of  their 
sponsors  as  I  sink  back,  before  my  Remington,  over- 
whelmed with  what  I  have  so  hurriedly,  and  perhaps 
rashly  done,  as  the  dapper  little  clerk,  bowing  with 
French  empressement  to  Miss  Work,  and  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  other  typewriting  ladies,  leaves  the  apart- 
ment. 

Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.  Where  have  I  heard  the 
name  before,  and  Panama — the  place  my  mother  used  to 
talk  to  me  about  when  I  was  a  child.  My  mother — all 
thought  leaves  me  save  that  I  have  lost  her  forever,  and 
tears  get  in  my  eyes. 

A  few  minutes  after,  time  having  brought  me  com- 
posure, I  step  over  to  Miss  Work,  a  sharp  Yankee  busi- 
ness woman  of  about  thirty-five,  and  tell  her  my  story. 

"  I  supposed  you  would  go,  Louise,"  she  says  kindly, 
*'  when  1  recommended  you  for  the  position.  I  am  very 
glad  that  you  have  got  a  situation  that  will  enable  you 
to  save  money.  There  is,  I  understand,  plenty  of  it  on 
the  Isthmus.  I  presume  you  are  anxious  to  go  home 
and  make  your  preparations." 

Then  she  settles  with  me  for  the  work  I  have  done,  at 
the  same  time  telling  my  companions  of  my  good  fortune, 
which  makes  a  buzz  in  the  room  even  greater  than  at 
lunch-hour,  as  they  come  clustering  about,  to  congratu- 
late, and  wish  me  a  pleasant  journey  and  good  luck,  and 
all  the  kind  wishes  that  come  into  the  hearts  of  generous 
American  girls,  which  even  toil  and  drudgery  cannot 
harden. 

Just  as  I  am  going,  Miss  Work,  after  kissing  me  good- 
by,  remarks  :  "  Be  sure  and  make  every  inquiry  about 
your  employers,  and  under  whose  protection  you  are  to 


72  BARON    MONTEZ. 

go  out  to  Panama,  as  the  journey  is  a  long  one  ;  though  I 
know  you  are  as  well  able  to  take  care  of  yourself  as  any 
young  lady  who  has  been  in  my  employ,  and  I  have  had 
some  giants,  both  physical  and  intellectual." 

"  Thank  you.  I'll  remember  what  you  say,"  I  reply, 
and  turn  away. 

As  I  reach  the  head  of  the  stairs,  there  is  a  patter  of 
light  feet  after  me,  and  my  chum  and  roommate,  Sally 
Broughton,  puts  her  arm  around  my  waist,  and  says  :  "  I 
shall  be  at  home  early,  too,  Louise  dear,  to  help  you 
pack,  and  do  anything  I  can  for  you.  But,"  here  she 
whispers  to  me  rather  roguishly,  "  what  will  Mr.  Alfred 
Tompkins  say  to  this  ?  " 

"  Say  !  "  reply  I.  "  What  business  is  it  of  Mr.  Alfred 
Tompkins,  what  Miss  Louise  Ripley  Minturn  does  ?  " 

*'  Notwithstanding  this,  Lll  bet  you  dare  not  tell  him." 

*'  Dare  not  tell  him  ?  Wait  until  this  evening,  and  see 
me,"  I  answer  firmly,  as  I  step  down  the  stairs  on  my 
way  home  to  East  Seventeenth  Street,  just  off  Irving 
Place,  where  Sally  and  I  have  two  rooms — one  a  parlor 
and  the  other  a  bedroom,  for  joint  use,  that  we  call 
home. 

Notwithstanding  my  defiant  reply,  as  I  am  being  con- 
veyed by  the  Fourth  Avenue  cars  to  my  destination, 
Sally's  remark  has  not  only  set  me  to  thinking  about 
Mr.  Tompkins,  one  of  the  floorwalkers  and  rising  young 
employees  of  Jonold,  Dunstable  &  Co.,  but  also  of — 
some  one  else. 

Mr.  Tompkins'  blond  face  fades  from  my  imagination. 
His  yellow  hair  becomes  chestnut  ;  his  English  side 
whiskers  transform  themselves  into  a  long,  drooping, 
military  mustache  ;  his  pinkish  eyes  become  hazel,  flash- 
ing, and  brilliant.  His  slightly  Roman  nose  takes  a 
Grecian  cast.  His  wavering  chin  changes  into  a  firm, 
strong,  and  dominating  one.  His  five  feet  eight,  grows 
into  six  feet  in  his  stockings.  In  short,  Mr.  Alfred 
Tompkins  of  Jonold,  Dunstable  &  Co.'s  dry-goods  estab- 
lishment, expands  into  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont  of  the 
United  and  Kollybocker  Clubs,  the  leader  of  cotillons 
at  Newport,  Lenox,  and  Delmonico's,  the  ex-lawn-tennis 
champion  and  football  athlete.  I  go  into  a  day-dream 
of  stupid  unreality,  and  call  myself — idiot  !  What  have 
I,  one  of  the  female  workers  of  this  earth,  to  do  with 


BARON.  MONTEZ.  73 

this  masculine  butterfly  of  fashion,  frivohty,  luxury,  and 
athletics  ? 

Still— I  am  a  Minturn  ! 

He  dances  with  my  first  cousins  at  Patriarch  balls.  He 
takes  my  aunts  down  to  dinners  in  Fifth  Avenue  resi- 
dences, and  plays  cards  with  my  uncles  at  the  United  and 
Kollybocker  Clubs  ;  a  second  cousin  of  mine  is  one  of 
his  chums  ;  though  they  all  apparently  have  forgotten 
thay  have  a  relative  named  Louise  Ripley  Minturn,  one 
of  Miss  Work's  stenographic  and  typewriting  band  at 
No.  135^  Nassau  Street,  New  York,  in  this  year  of  our 
Lord,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  eighty-eight. 

My  drifting  away  from  my  fashionable  relatives  had 
been  easy  :  the  drifting  was  done  by  my  father,  when  he 
married  my  mother.  He  had  no  money.  Neither  had 
my  mother,  and  so  they  drifted. 

The  thought  of  my  mother  brings  Panama  into  my 
mind,  and  I  give  a  start,  for  it  calls  back  the  sad  tale  she 
had  told  me  so  often,  in  my  early  girlhood,  though  before 
her  death  it  had  become  even  an  old  story  to  her :  the 
statement  of  the  unrecorded  fate  that  befell  her  parents 
upon  the  Isthmus,  no  detail  of  which  was  known  to  her, 
she  being  a  girl  of  sixteen  at  that  time,  at  a  school  near 
Baltimore. 

Her  father,  George  Merritt  Ripley,  and  her  mother, 
Alice  Louise  Ripley,  were  returning  from  Califor- 
nia. Enthusiastic  letters  said  they  came  laden  with 
the  gold  of  the  Sierras,  to  bring  all  the  blessings  of 
wealth  and  love  to  the  one  daughter  of  their  heart.  They 
had  arrived  in  Panama  in  September,  1856.  Since  that 
time,  no  word  had  ever  come  of  their  own  fate,  or  that  of 
the  treasure  they  brought  with  them. 

Their  daughter  had  tried  to  discover — the  lady  princi- 
pal of  the  school  at  which  she  was,  had  made  repeated 
efforts  to  learn  of  George  Merritt  Ripley  and  his  wife 
from  the  American  Consul  and  the  agent  of  the  railroad 
company — but  could  never  discover  anything  save  that 
my  mother's  parents  arrived  at  Panama  by  the  steamer 
George  L.  Stevens  from  San  Francisco  and  then  dis- 
appeared. 

The  lady  principal,  however,  was  kind ;  and  my  mother, 
having  no  near  relatives  who  would  assume  the  care  of 
the  orphan,  had  remained  at  her  school — partly  as  pupil, 


74  BARON    MONTEZ. 

partly  as  music  teacher — until  Martin  Minturn  had  met 
her,  after  he  was  in  his  middle  age,  and  had  already, 
during  the  War  of  the  RebelHon,  lost  his  fortune,  which 
he  had  invested  in  Southern  securities. 

Turning  from  the  world,  perhaps  embittered  by  his 
losses,  he  had  become  one  of  that  class  least  fitted  to 
battle  with  its  storms  and  currents — a  scientist  and  phi- 
losopher. He  was  professor  of  chemistry  in  a  Baltimore 
university,  and  came  three  times  a  week  to  lecture  at  the 
young  ladies'  seminary  in  which  my  mother  lived  a  tame 
and  passionless  existence  as  instructor  on  the  piano. 

Mutual  sympathy  for  the  misfortunes  that  had  come 
upon  them  brought  them  together.  They  loved  and 
married. 

Inspired  by  his  love  for  her,  my  father  had  determined 
to  again  take  up  the  battle  with  the  world.  He  had 
brought  his  wife  with  him  to  New  York,  and  after  eight 
years  of  heart-breaking  disappointment  as  an  inventor 
and  the  maker  of  other  men's  fortunes,  had  died,  leav- 
ing my  mother  with  very  little  of  this  world's  goods, 
and  burdened  by  myself,  a  child  of  six. 

My  father  before  his  death  had  drifted  entirely  away 
from  his  rich  and  fashionable  relatives  in  New  York,  who 
once  or  twice,  in  a  half-hearted  manner,  had  tried  to  aid 
him,  and  then  had  finally  shut  their  doors  against  the 
man  of  ill  fortune  who  only  came  to  them  to  borrow. 

Too  proud  to  ask  assistance  from  those  who  had 
turned  their  backs  on  her  husband,  my  mother  again  de- 
voted herself  to  teaching,  this  time  in  a  New  York  school. 
Here  she  had  lived  out  her  life  for  me,  giving  me  all  she 
could  obtain  for  me  by  parsimony  and  self-denial — a 
first-rate  education,  for  which  God  bless  her  !  my  dear 
mother,  who  has  gone  from  me  ! 

At  last  she  died,  and  I,  left  alone  in  this  world  at 
eighteen,  was  compelled  to  put  my  talents  into  bread 
and  butter.  A  fair  musician,  I  was  not  artist  enough  to 
become  celebrated.  A  poor  music  teacher  is  the  veriest 
drudge  upon  this  earth.  I  had  studied  stenography,  and 
was  an  accomplished  linguist.  That  seemed  a  better 
field.  To  the  moment  of  writing  this,  it  had  been  a  hara 
one,  though  the  previous  year  had  been  to  me  generally 
a  pleasant  one,  and  I  had  made  a  friend — not  a  fair- 
weather  friend,  but  an  all-weather  friend — Sallv  Brough- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  75 

ton,  who  sat  at  the  next  typewriter  to  me,  at  Miss  Work's. 
Mr.  Alfred  Tompkins  of  Jonold,  Dunstable's  establish- 
ment, and  Mr.  Horace  Jenkins  of  the  rival  dry-goods 
house  of  Pacy  &  Co.,  had  also  become  known  to  me. 
These  gentlemen  are  chums,  though  the  haughty 
Tompkins,  whose  business  place  is  on  Broadway,  rather 
looks  down  upon  his  Sixth  Avenue  factotum. 

Mr.  Jenkins  greatly  admires  Miss  Sally  Broughton. 
Mf!  Alfred  Tompkins — but  why  should  I  mention  a 
matter  that  hardly  interests  me  ?  My  life  is  so  lonely,  I 
must  talk  to  some  one  at  times — though  Mr.  Tom.pkins 
says,  I  am  told,  that  I  have  a  great  and  haughty  coolness 
in  my  manner. 

I  have  also  seen,  met,  and  spoken  to  the  athlete,  who 
fills  my  mind,  at  the  house  of  his  uncle,  Larchmont  Dela- 
field,  the  great  banker. 

Here  the  conductor  of  the  Fourth  Avenue  car  dis- 
turbs my  meditations  by  calling  out  in  stentorian  tones  : 
"  Twenty-third  Street  !  " 

With  a  start,  I  remember  Seventeenth  is  my  destina- 
tion, and  jump  off  the  car,  reflecting  that  my  musings 
have  cost  me  an  unnecessary  promenade  of  six  Fourth 
Avenue  blocks. 

While  making  this  return  trip,  my  mind  goes  wander- 
ing again.  It  seems,  now  that  I  am  about  to  leave  New 
York,  to  take  me  to  the  object  that  has  most  interested 
me  in  it — the  frank  hazel  eyes,  that  have  appeared  to  be 
always  laughing,  when  I  have  seen  them,  and  the  grace- 
ful athletic  figure  of  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont. 

So  getting  to  the  little  bedroom  and  parlor  en  suite 
that  Miss  Broughton  and  I  call  home,  I  take  out  my 
diary,  and  in  its  pages  go  back  to  the  time  I  first  met 
him. 

His  uncle,  Mr.  Larchmont  Delafield,  had  had  a  good 
deal  of  stenographic  and  typewriting  work  done  at  Miss 
Work's  office.  Mr.  Delafield,  being  anxious  to  complete 
some  very  important  correspondence,  was  confined  to  his 
house  by  an  attack  of  gout.  I  was  sent  to  his  house  on 
Madison  Avenue,  one  evening,  to  take  a  dictation  from 
him. 

Arriving  at  his  mansion  about  half-past  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  I  found  evidences  of  an  incipient  dinner 
party.     A  magnificent  woman  and  very  charming  girl, 


76  BARON    MONTEZ. 

both  in  full  evening  dress,  preceded  me  up  the  grand 
staircase.  The  footman  was  about  to  show  me  after 
them  into  the  ladies'  reception  room,  when  I  told  him 
my  call  was  simply  one  of  business  with  his  master. 

A  moment  after,  I  found  myself  in  the  study  of  the 
banker,  who  was  apparently  in  one  of  those  extraordinary 
bad  tempers,  peculiar  to  gout. 

'^  Shut  the  door,  John  !  "  he  thunders  at  the  domestic, 
*'  and  keep  the  odors  of  that  infernal  dinner  out  of  my 
nostrils.     I  long  for  it,  but  can't  have  it  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replies  the  footman,  about  to  retire. 

"  Stop  !  "  cries  the  banker.  "  Tell  my  nephew,  Harry 
Larchmont,  to  come  up  and  see  me  at  once.  Has  he 
arrived  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  with  Mrs.  Dewitt  and  Miss  Severn." 

"  Of  course — of  course — with  Miss  Jessie  Severn  !  the 
girl  with  the  plump  shoulders  that  she  shows  so  nicely," 
says  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  savage  chuckle.  ''  Tell 
him  to  come  up — that  I  want  to  see  him  instantly,  though 
I  won't  keep  him  long." 

A  moment  after,  Mr.  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont  stalks 
lazily  into  the  apartment,  in  faultless  evening  dress, 
decorated  with  a  big  bunch  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  and 
looking  the  embodiment  of  neat  fashion. 

"  Harry,  my  boy,"  says  the  banker,  "  I  want  to  see  you 
for  a  moment." 

"  So  I  was  just  told.  I'm  awful  sorry  the  doctors 
won't  permit  you  to  join  us,"  returns  the  young  man, 
giving  the  elder  a  hearty  grip  of  the  hand. 

"  Don't  speak  of  the  dinner,"  mutters  old  Delafield. 
*'  My  mouth  waters  at  the  thought  of  the  canvas-back 
ducks  now.  But  it  is  of  this  I  wish  to  speak  to  you.  You 
must  occupy  my  place,  as  host,  with  Mrs.  Delafield.  I 
know  I  can  leave  my  reputation  for  hospitality  in  your 
hands." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  replies  young  Larchmont.  Then 
he  gives  a  sudden  start  of  horror,  and  ejaculates  :  "  Great 
goodness  !  My  taking  your  place  as  host  entails  my 
taking  that  fat  dowager,  Mrs.  John  Robinson  Norton,  in 
to  dinner." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  does,  my  poor  boy,"  grins  his  uncle, 
"  but  I  spoke  to  my  wife,  and  pretty  little  Miss  Jessie 
Severn  sits  on  the  other  side  of  you.     You  have  only  to 


BARON    MONTEZ.  77 

turn  your  head  to  see  her  blue  eyes  and  plump  shoulders. 
She  has  also  exquisite  ankles  ;  you  should  have  kept  her 
in  the  short  dresses  she  came  over  in  from  Paris  a  month 
ago.  You're  kind  of  half  guardian  to  her,  ain't  you  ?  " 
runs  on  the  old  man. 

"  It  is  necessary  to  drape  a  young  lady's  ankles  to 
bring  her  out  in  society,"  returns  Mr.  Larchmont. 
"  Miss  Severn  is  now  ou^.  Mrs.  Dewitt  is  chaperoning 
hi&r.  Besides,"  the  young  man  goes  on,  playfully, 
"you're  too  old  for  ankles.  At  your  time  of  life  the 
ballet!'' 

*'  If  you  didn't  know,  Harry,  that  you  were  my  favor- 
ite nephew,  you  wouldnt  dare  such  wit,"  chuckles  the 
uncle.  Then  he  goes  on  :  "I  suppose  you  feel  so  fman- 
cially  comfortable  already,  that  you  never  think  of  my 
will  ?  " 

"  Thank  God,  I  never  do,  dear  old  uncle  !  "  says  the 
young  man,  earnestly. 

"  Besides,  if  you  marry  Miss  Severn,  she'll  have  a 
pretty  plum,"  goes  on  old  Delafield. 

At  this  the  nephew  suddenly  looks  serious,  and  I 
think  I  detect  a  slight  sigh. 

Somehow  or  other,  as  I  look  at  Harry  Sturgis  Larch- 
mont, I  begin  to  dislike  the  pretty  little  Miss  Jessie 
Severn.  I  had  seen  this  gorgeous  masculine  creature, 
when  I  was  sixteen  and  enthusiastic,  at  a  football  game, 
and  had  gloried  in  his  triumphs  on  that  brutal  arena. 

Interest  begets  interest,  and  as  the  young  gentleman 
turns  to  go,  he  casts  inquiring  gaze  upon  me.  This  is 
answered  by  his  uncle,  in  the  politeness  of  the  old  school, 
as  he  says  :  "  Miss  Minturn,  let  me  present  my  nephew, 
Mr.  Harry  Larchmont." 

"  Miss  Minturn  has  kindly  consented  to  act  as  my 
stenographer  this  evening,  on  some  important  business, 
that  cannot  be  delayed  ;  "  interjects  the  elder  man,  as 
the  younger  one  bows  to  me,  which  I,  anxious  to  maintain 
my  dignity,  return  in  a  careless  and  nonchalant  manner. 

A  moment  after,  Mr.  Larchmont  has  left  the  room. 
While  his  uncle  chuckles  after  him  sotto  voce :  "  A  fine 
young  man  !  I  wish  that  French  brother  of  his,  Frank, 
the  Parisian  la-de-da,  was  more  like  him — more  of  an 
American  !  "  Then  he  snaps  his  lips  together,  and  says  : 
"  To  business  !  " 


78  BARON    IMONTEZ. 

"  But  your  dinner  !  "  I  suggest  hurriedly,  for  I  have 
somehow  grown  to  sympathize  with  the  old  gentleman's 
appetite. 

"  My  dinner  ?  My  dinner  consisted  of  oatmeal  gruel, 
which  was  digested  two  hours  ago,  thank  Heaven  !  To 
business  !  *'  cries  the  old  man. 

With  this,  he  commences  to  dictate  to  me  a  number  of 
letters  on  some  very  important  and  confidential  transac- 
tions. As  we  go  on,  these  letters  approach  a  climax.  I 
have  been  at  work  nearly  two  hours,  when  an  epistle 
to  the  president  of  a  railroad,  who,  he  thinks,  is  attempt- 
ing some  underhand  game  with  its  preferred  stock- 
holders, makes  the  old  gentleman  intensely  angry.  His 
face  gets  red  ;  as  he  continues,  his  letter,  from  being  that 
of  a  business  man,  becomes  one  of  vindictive  and  bitter 
animosity.  His  asides  are,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  strong 
almost  to  the  verge  of  profanity.  His  hands  tremble, 
his  voice  becomes  husky,  and  as  he  closes  the  letter 
with  ''Yours  most  respectfully,"  Larchmont  Delafield 
utters  a  savage  oath,  and  rising  from  his  chair,  after  two 
or  three  attempts  at  articulation  that  end  in  gasps  and 
gurgles,  falls  back  into  it.  I  am  alone  with  a  man  ap- 
parently stricken  with  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  brought  on 
by  his  own  passions. 

I  hastily  open  the  door.  The  noise  of  laughter  and 
gayety  downstairs,  comes  to  me,  up  the  great  staircase. 
The  perfume  of  flowers,  and  the  faint  music  of  the 
orchestra,  tell  of  revelry  below. 

.  I  hesitate  to  make  this  scene  of  gayety  one  of  con- 
sternation and  sorrow.  I  hurriedly  press  the  button  of 
an  electric  bell. 

A  moment  after,  a  footman  coming  to  me,  I  say  : 
"  Please  quietly  ask  Mr.  Harry  Larchmont  to  come  up 
to  his  uncle.  Mr.  Delafield  wishes  to  see  him  imme- 
diately." 

"I  can  do  that  easily,  now,"  replies  the  man,  "The 
ladies  are  in  the  parlor,  and  the  gentlemen  are  by  them- 
men  in  the  dining-room." 

I  wait  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Mr.  Larchmont  com- 
ing up,  says  :  "  My  uncle  wishes  to  see  me,  I  believe." 

"  No  !  "  I  reply. 

"  No  ? — he  sent  for  me." 

"  He  did  not  send  for  you — /did." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  79 

"  You  ?  "  The  young  man  gazes  at  me  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Yes  ;  I  did  not  wish  to  disturb  the  gayety  of  the 
party  below.  Your  uncle  has  had  a  seizure  of  some 
kind — a  fit !  " 

"  Thank  you  for  your  consideration,"  he  answers,  and 
in  another  second  is  by  the  side  of  the  invalid,  and  I 
looking  at  him,  admire  him  more  than  ever. 
'*This  gentleman  of  pleasure  has  become  a  man  of  action. 

"  Some  cold  water  on  his  head — quick  !  "  he  says 
sharply.  1  obey,  and  he  lifts  his  uncle  up,  and  proceeds 
to  resuscitate  the  old  gentleman  by  means  that  are 
known  to  athletes.  While  he  is  doing  this,  he  says 
rapidly  to  me :  ''  Ring  the  bell,  and  give  the  footman 
the  notes  I  will  dictate  to  you." 

As  I  do  his  bidding,  and  sit  down  ;  never  relaxing  his 
efforts  to  bring  consciousness  back  to  his  uncle,  the 
young  man  dictates  hurriedly  : 

"Dear  Sir:  Come  to  Mr.  Larchmont  Delafield's,  No.  124^  Madison 
Avenue,  at  once.  Pie  has  had  an  attack  of  epilepsy  or  apoplexy — I 
think  the  latter.  Simply  ask  for  Mr.  Delafield.  There  is  a  dmner 
party  below. 

Yours  in  haste, 

Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont." 

"  Triplicate  that  letter,"  he  says.  ''  Send  one  to  Dr. 
George  Howland,  another  to  Dr.  Ralph  Abercrombie,  and 
the  third  to  Dr.  Thomas  Robertson  ;  you'll  find  their  ad- 
dresses in  that  directory." 

As  I  finish  these  the  footman  comes  in. 

''  Not  a  word  of  this,  John,"  Mr.  Larchmont  says,  "  to 
anybody  !  Take  these  three  letters,  go  downstairs,  and 
give  them  to  three  of  the  servants.  There  are  half  a 
dozen  in  the  kitchen.  Tell  them  they  must  be  delivered, 
each  of  them,  within  ten  minutes — and  a  five-dollar  bill 
for  you." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  young  man  has  partially 
revived  his  uncle. 

A  moment  after,  one  of  the  doctors  summoned  stands 
beside  him,  and  says  that  the  attack  is  not  a  serious 
one,  and  that  the  old  gentleman  will  be  all  right  with 
rest  and  care. 

"Very  well,"  replies  Mr.  Harry  ;  '-if  that  is  the  case,  I 


So  BARON    MONTEZ. 

will  go  down  to  the  dinner  party.  No  one  has  been 
alarmed — not  even  Mrs.  Delafield — and  all  owing  to  the 
thoughtfulness  of  this  young  lady,  to  whom  I  tender  my 
thanks."  He  bows  to  me  and  goes  down  to  the  festival 
below,  while  I  gather  up  my  papers  and  dictation  book, 
and  make  my  preparations  for  departure, 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  I  come  down  the  great  stair- 
way also,  and  stand  putting  on  my  cloak  in  the  hall. 

As  I  do  so,  through  tapestry  curtains,  that  are  partially 
open,  I  see,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  one  of  the  great 
reception  rooms  of  a  New^  York  mansion.  Lighted  by 
rare  and  peculiar  lamps,  each  one  of  them  a  work  of  art, 
adorned  by  numerous  pictures,  statues,  and  costly  bric-a- 
brac  from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  ;  embellished  and 
perfumed  by  hothouse  plants  and  flowers  ;  and  made 
bright  by  lovely  women  in  exquisite  toilettes,  and  men 
in  faultless  evening  dress,  the  scene  is  a  revelation  to  me. 

But  I  linger  only  on  one  portion  of  it. 

In  front  of  a  large  mantel-piece  stands  Harry  Larch- 
mont,  talking  to  a  young  lady  who  is  a  dream  of  fairy- 
like loveliness  in  the  lace,  tulle,  and  gauze  that  float 
about  her  graceful  figure.  She  is  scarcely  more  than  a 
child  yet,  but  her  eyes  are  blue  as  sapphires,  her  chin 
piquant,  her  laugh  vivacious,  her  smile  enchanting.  I 
am  compelled  to  admit  this,  though  for  some  occult 
reason  I  do  not  care  to  do  so. 

For  one  short  second  I  compare  the  face  and  figure  in 
the  parlor  with  the  one  I  see  reflected  in  the  great  hall 
mirror  beside  me.  A  flash  of  joy  !  It  seems  to  me 
I  am  as  pretty  as  Miss  Jessie  Severn.  Perchance,  if  I 
wore  the  same  exquisite  toilette,  my  lithe  figure  and  bru- 
nette charms  would  be  as  lovely  as  her  blonde  graces. 
Perhaps  even  he 

Here  fool's  blushes  com.e  upon  me.  His  voice  sounds 
in  my  ear. 

It  says  :  "  I  have  excused  myself  for  a  moment  from 
my  guest^;,  to  again  thank  you.  Miss  Minturn,  for  your 
presence  of  mind  and  thoughtful  action  this  evening. 
The  night  is  stormy — you  have  been  kept  here  late." 
Then  he  turns  and  directs  the  man  at  the  door  :  "  John, 
call  up  the  carriage  for  Miss  Minturn." 

He  holds  out  a  hand,  which  I  take,  as  I  stammer  out 
my  thanks,  and  looking  in  his  eyes,  I  know  he  means 


BARON    MONTEZ.  8l 

what  he  says.  Perhaps  more — for  there  is  something  in 
his  glance  that  makes  me,  as  I  go  out  of  the  massive 
oaken  doors  and  down  the  great  stairs,  and  pass  through 
the  Httle  throng  of  waiting  footmen,  and  take  the  equi- 
page his  care  has  provided  for  me,  grow  bitter,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  at  my  fate. 

As  I  ride  to  my  modest  rooms  in  quiet  Seventeenth 
Street,  I  clinch  my  hands,  and  mutter  :  "  Had  my  mother's 
pa/ehts  not  disappeared  upon  that  Isthmus  of  Panama, 
their  gold  might  have  made  me  the  guest,  instead  of  the 
stenographer.  At  dinner  he  might  have  gazed  upon  m.y 
pretty  shoulders — not  Miss  Jessie  Severn's." 

Fool  that  I  am,  I  think  these  things  !  For  I  have 
admired  this  young  gentleman's  victories  on  the  foot- 
ball field,  and  his  presence  of  mind  and  action  more  this 
evening.  "  He  seems  to  me  a  man  who  might  make  a 
woman — "  But  I  stop  myself  here,  and  gasp  :  "  You  are 
crazy  I  Typewriter  !  you  are  crazy  !  " 

Reaching  home,  I  take  out  my  clicking  Remington, 
and  over  the  correspondence  of  Mr.  Delafield  the  banker, 
Miss  Minturn  the  stenographer  tries  to  forget  Mr.  Harry 
Larchmont  the  man  of  fashion. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    ANGEL    OF    THE    BLIZZARD. 

Two  days  after,  I  received  a  brief  note  from  Mr. 
Larchmont,  which  simply  stated  he  v/as  taking  care  of 
his  uncle's  minor  matters  of  business,  during  that  gentle- 
man's recovery,  and  enclosed  to  me  a  check  for  my 
services  as  stenographer,  the  amount  of  which,  though 
liberal,  was  not  sufficient  to  make  me  think  it  anything 
more  than  a  simple  business  transaction. 

Then  one  week  afterwards  came  the  blizzard,  that 
crushed  New  York  with  snow-flakes,  that  stopped  the 
elevated  railways,  and  blocked  all  transportation  by  Sur- 
face cars  ;  that  confined  people  in  their  houses  on  the 
great  thoroughfares,  as  completely  as  if  they  had  been  a 
hundred  miles  away  from  other  habitations.  That  dear 
delightful,  fearful  blizzard,  in  which  I  nearly  died. 
6 


82    -  BARON    MONTEZ. 

On  Monday  morning,  March  12th,  I  am  awakened  by 
Miss  Broughton,  who  is  peeping  out  through  the  case- 
ments. She  crys :  "  Louise,  wake  up  !  This  is  the 
greatest  storm  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Nonsense  !     It's  spring  now,"  I  answer  sleepily. 

"Yes,  March  spring! — cold  spring!  Jump  out  of 
bed  and  see  if  it's  a  spring  atmosphere,"  returns  Sally, 
with  a  Castanet  accompaniment  from  her  white  teeth. 

1  obey  her,  and  the  spring  atmosphere  arouses  me  to 
immediate  and  vigorous  action.  In  a  rush  I  start  the 
gas  stove,  and,  throwing  on  a  wrap,  walk  to  Sally's  side, 
and  take  a  look  at  what  is  going  on  in  the  street. 

"  Isn't  it  a  storm  !  "  suggests  Miss  Broughton  enthusi- 
astically. "  A  beautiful  storm  !  A  storm  that  will  stop 
work.     A  storm  that  will  give  me  a  lazy  day  at  home  !  " 

"  You  are  not  going  down  to  the  office  }  "  1  say. 

"  Through  those  snow  banks  ? "  she  replies,  pointing 
to  six  feet  of  white  drift  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  in  which  a  newsboy  has  buried  himself  three 
times,  in  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  deliver  newspapers 
at  the  basement  door. 

"  Certainly,"  I  reply. 

"  Impossible  !  "  she  says.  "  You  will  make  a  nice, 
lazy  day  of  it,  at  home  with  me.  We  will  do  plain  sew- 
ing. You  shall  help  me  make  my  new  dress."  Sally 
always  claims  me  on  lazy  days.  In  my  idle  moments,  I 
think  I  have  constructed  four  or  five  costumes  for  her. 
This  time  I  rebel. 

"  If  you  are  not  going  to  work,  I  am  !  "  I  say  decidedly. 

"  Through  those  drifts  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  "  I  reflect  that  I  have  some  documents 
Miss  Work  has  promised  this  day.  They  are  legal  ones, 
and  admit  of  no  postponement. 

"  Well,  you  may  be  able  to  get  to  the  office,"  says 
Sally,  "  if  you  are  a  Norwegian  on  snowshoes,  or  an 
angel  on  wings." 

This  angel  idea  is  a  suggestion  to  me.  ''  The  ele- 
vated is  running  !  "  I  answer,  and  point  to  the  Third 
Avenue,  down  which  a  train  is  slowly  forcing  its  way. 
The  station  is  only  a  short  distance  from  me.  I  will 
take  the  elevated.  Surface  cars  may  be  blocked,  but  the 
elevated  goes  through  the  air. 

Miss  Broughton  does  not  reply  to  this,  though  I  pre- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  83 

sume  she  has  her  doubts  about  the  feasibility  of  my 
plan,  for  the  storm  is  coming  thicker  and  heavier. 

But  breakfast  over,  she  steps  to  the  window,  looks  out, 
and  says  disappointedly  :  "  Yes,  the  Third  Avenue  trains 
are  still  running.  I  presume  you  can  go,  but  how  about 
getting  back  again  this  evening?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  "  I  reply,  "  it  will  be  all  finished  in  an  hour." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  well  equipped  for  Arctic 
travelling,  I,  with  a  desperate  effort,  get  out  of  the  door, 
and  for  a  moment  am  blown  away  by  the  wind.  I  had 
no  idea  the  storm  was  so  severe.  But  I  struggle  on,  and 
finally  reach  the  Third  Avenue  station,  to  climb  up  its 
icy  stairs  and  be  nearly  blown  from  them  in  my  ascent 
to  the  platform.  From  this,  1  finally  struggle  on  board 
a  down-town  train,  which  contains  very  few  people. 
The  guards  have  lost  their  usual  peremptory  tones. 
They  do  not  cry  out  in  their  bullying  manner,  "  All 
aboard  !  Step  on  lively  !  "  as  they  are  prone  to  do  on 
finer  days,  but  are  trying  to  get  warm  over  the  steam- 
pipes  in  the  car.     The  blizzard  has  even  crushed  them  ! 

We  roll  off  on  our  journey,  amid  gusts  of  wind  that 
nearly  blow  us  off  the  track,  and  flurries  of  snow  that 
make  it  impossible  to  see  out  of  the  windows.  In  about 
quadruple  the  usual  time,  however,  we  creep  alongside 
the  City  Hall  station  platform. 

It  is  now  half-past  nine.  I  alight,  and  am  practically 
blown  down  the  stairs,  though  a  snowdrift  at  the  bottom 
receives  me,  and  makes  my  fall  a  soft  one.  Then  I  fight 
my  way  along  Park  Place  and  into  Nassau  Street.  The 
storm  seems  to  get  stronger  and  fiercer,  as  I  grow  more 
and  more  feeble.  Midway  I  would  turn  back,  but 
back  is  now  as  great  a  distance  as  forward  ;  and 
one  end  of  the  journey  means  the  comfortless  railway 
station,  where  perchance  no  trains  are  leaving  now. 
The  other  terminus  is  Miss  Work's  office,  where  there 
will  certainly  be  a  fire,  company,  and  occupation.  By 
the  time  I  shall  be  ready  to  go  home,  the  storm  must  be 
over. 

So  I  struggle  on,  and  fight  my  way  through  snowdrifts, 
to  finally  arrive,  in  an  almost  exhausted  condition,  at  135  J 
Nassau  Street. 

A  long  climb  up  the  stairs,  for  the  building  is  not  pro- 
vided with  an  elevator,  and  I  find  myself  on  the  top  floor, 


84  BARON    MONTEZ. 

which  is- occupied  by  Miss  Work's  establishment.  Here, 
to  my  astonishment,  the  door  is  still  locked.  Having  a 
pass  key,  I  a  moment  after  enter,  to  my  consternation,  an 
empty  room,  and  a  cold  one.  Miss  Work,  who  is  punc- 
tuality itself,  is  not  here.  I  reflect,  she  will  undoubtedly 
arrive  in  a  few  minutes.     She  must  come. 

While  thinking  this,  for  the  atmosphere  does  not  per- 
mit of  delay,  I  am  hurriedly  making  a  fire  in  the  grate, 
which  has  not  been  attended  to  over  night,  the  man  in 
charge  of  the  building  apparently  not  having  visited  it 
this  morning.  Fortunately  there  is  plenty  of  fuel,  and  I 
soon  have  a  roaring  fire  and  comfort. 

Then  I  move  my  typewriter  where  I  get  the  full  benefit 
of  the  cheery  blaze,  and  sit  down  to  my  work. 

Time  flies.  No  one  comes.  Having  nothing  to  eat,  I 
pass  what  should  be  my  lunch  hour  over  the  keyboard 
of  my  Remington,  thinking  I  will  have  my  task  finished 
and  go  home  the  earlier.  But  the  papers  are  long  ones, 
and  being  legal,  require  considerable  care  and  accuracy, 
and  as  I  finish  the  last  of  them  I  look  up. 

It  is  nearly  dark.  My  watch  says  it  is  only  three 
o'clock,  but  the  storm,  which  seems  to  be  even  heavier 
than  in  the  morning,  causes  early  gloom.  I  look  out 
on  the  wild  prospect.  As  well  as  I  can  determine,  in  the 
uncertain  light,  glancing  through  flurries  of  snow,  not 
one  person  passes  along  sidewalks  that  are  usually 
crowded  with  humanity. 

What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  am  hungry  !  I  am  alone  !  Even 
in  this  great  building  I  am  the  only  one,  for  no  sound 
comes  to  me  from  the  offices  down  stairs,  that  at  this 
time  in  the  day  are  usually  filled  by  movement,  hurry, 
and  activity. 

Sally  will  be  anxious  for  me.  Though,  did  not  my 
appetite  drive  me  forth,  I  believe  I  should  attempt  to 
make  a  night  of  it  in  the  great  deserted  building.  I 
should  probably  be  frightened,  though  I  should  barricade 
myself  in.  I  should  probably  see  ghosts  of  lawyers  and 
legal  luminaries  who  have  long  since  departed,  from  these 
their  old  offices,  to  plead  their  own  cases  before  the  Court 
of  Highest  Appeal.  But  hunger  !  I  am  more  afraid  of 
hunger  than  of  ghosts.     Besides,  it  is  so  lonely. 

I  decide  to  force  my  path  to  Broadway.  On  that  great 
thoroughfare  there  must  be  some  one  !     I  lock  the  door, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  85 

come  down  the  stairs,  step  out  on  the  street,  and  give  a 
shiver.  During  the  day  it  has  grown  much  colder, 
though  in  the  warm  room  I  had  not  noticed  it. 

My  first  step  is  into  an  immense  snowdrift.  Through 
this  I  struggle,  and  reaching  the  corner  of  the  street  am 
literally  blown  off  my  feet,  fortunately  towards  Broad- 
way. Thank  Heaven  !  it  is  a  very  short  block,  though  it 
seems  to  me  an  eternity  before  I  reach  the  thoroughfare 
that  yesterday  was  the  great  artery  of  traffic  in  New 
York,  but  now,  as  I  gaze  up  and  down  it,  seeking  some 
human  face,  seems  as  deserted  as  a  Siberian  steppe. 

The  shops  are  all  closed,  even  the  drug  stores.  There 
are  no  passing  vehicles,  no  struggling  pedestrians.  The 
traffic  of  the  great  city  has  been  annihilated  by  this  pro- 
digious storm.  Telegraph  wires,  that  last  night  were 
overhead,  have  many  of  them  fallen.  There  is  nothing 
for  me  but  to  struggle  onward. 

I  turn  my  face  to  the  north — up  town — where  three 
miles  away  Sally  is  waiting  for  me,  with  a  warm  fire,  and 
I  hope  a  comfortable  meal.  Towards  this  1  force  my  way 
— for  a  few  minutes. 

Then  I  trip  over  a  broken  telegraph  wire  that  lies  in 
the  snow.  As  I  stagger  up  again,  for  a  moment  I  am 
not  certain  which  way  I  am  going.  Good  Heavens  !  if 
I  should  turn  back  on  my  tracks  ? 

The  wild  snowstorm  about  me  dazes  me,  confuses 
me,  benumbs  me,  and  makes  me  stupid.  The  strength 
of  the  wind  forces  me  to  hold  my  head  down ;  I  try  to 
see  which  way  I  have  come  by  my  tracks  in  the  snow — 
but  there  are  none  !  The  gusts  are  so  violent,  my 
footsteps  have  been  obliterated  almost  as  I  made  them. 

Desperate,  I  look  around  me,  and  see,  through  snow 
flurries,  the  light  in  the  great  tower  of  the  Western 
Union  Telegraph  Building.  It  seems  awfully  far  away, 
but  gives  me  my  direction ;  and  I  struggle  northward 
once  more,  staggering  through  drifts — sometimes  falling 
into  them,  no  voice  coming  to  me — alone  in  a  living  city 
that  is  now  dead — killed  by  the  snow.  Darkness  has 
fallen  upon  the  streets,  and  enshrouds  me.  Still  I  fight 
on.  There  are  hotels  farther  up  the  street.  If  I  could 
get  to  one — if  I  could  get  anywhere  to  be  warm  ! 

I  have  passed  the  Western  Union  Building,  I  think — 
I  am  not  sure — my  faculties  are  too  benumbed  for  cer- 


86  BARON    MONTEZ. 

tainty.  All  I  know  is,  that  I  am  cold — that  I  am  be- 
numbed— that  I  am  hungry — that  1  am  weak — that  the 
snowdrifts  grow  larger — the  snow  flurries  stronger — the 
piercing  cutting  wind  more  fierce  and  merciless — and, 
above  all  this,  that  I  am  unutterably  sleepy.  I  dream 
even  as  I  struggle,  and  then  I  cease  to  struggle,  and  only 
dream — beautiful  dreams — dreams  of  what  I  long  for — 
dreams  of  warmth  and  comfort,  of  bounteous  meals  and 
generous  wine. 

And  even  as  this  last  comes  to  me,  something  is  poured 
down  my  throat — something  that  burns,  but  vivifies — 
something  that  brings  my  senses  to  me  with  sudden  shock. 
I  hear,  still  in  a  half  dreamy  way,  a  voice  that  seems 
familiar,  say : 

"■  Pat,  that  is  the  worst  whiskey  I  have  ever  tasted  ;  but 
I  think  it  has  done  me  good,  as  well  as  saved  this  young 
lady's  life." 

"  By  me  soul,  it  has  saved  mine  several  times  to-day  !  " 
is  the  answer. 

Then  the  other  voice,  the  familiar  one,  goes  on  :  "  Do 
you  think  you  can  get  us  up  town  ?  " 

"  Faith,  I've  been  half  an  hour  coming  from  the  Western 
Union  Building.  You  may  bless  God  if  I  make  the 
Astor  House  alive." 

"  Then  somewhere,  quick  !     This  will  keep  her  warm." 

I  feel  the  burning  stuff  pour  down  my  throat  once  more, 
and  give  me  renewed  life  and  sentiency.  Strong  arms 
lift  me  into  a  cab,  a  rug  is  wrapped  around  me.  I  open 
my  eyes.  Beside  me  sits  a  man,  to  whom  I  falter,  my 
teeth  still  chattering,  "I — I  was  lost  in  the  snow." 

Even  as  I  say  this,  the  familiar  voice  cries  :  "  Your 
tones  are  familiar.     Who  are  you  ?  " 

I  answer  :  "  Miss  Minturn." 

And  the  voice  cries  :  "  Good  heavens  !  Thank  God 
I  saw  you  from  my  couptf  in  time  !  " 

And  I,  still  dazed,  gasp :  "  It  is  Mr.  Larchmont,  is  it 
not  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  don't  exert  yourself,  you  are  weak.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  will  have  you  at  the  Astor  House,  warm  and 
comfortable.     Have  no  fear." 

And  somehow  or  other,  his  voice  revives  me  more 
than  the  whiskey.     I  am  contented— even  happy. 

But  the  storm  is  still   upon  us  ;  and  though  there  are 


BARON    MONTEZ.  87 

two  Strong  horses  attached  to  the  coupf^  fighting  for  their 
own  lives  through  the  deepening  drifts,  it  is  nearly  an 
hour  before  lights  flash  on  the  sidewalk,  and  I  am  assisted 
into  warmth  and  comfort  and  life  once  more,  in  the  Astor 
House  parlor. 

There  1  thaw  for  a  few  minutes,  during  which  he  sits 
looking  at  me,  though  I  am  dimly  conscious  he  has  given 
some  orders.  Having  entirely  regained  my  senses,  I 
faster  :  ''  I  must  go  home  !  Sally  will  be  anxious  about 
me  !  " 

"Where  do  you  live  ?  "  he  inquires  shortly. 

'■'■  Seventeenth  Street." 

"  Then  you  could  not  live  to  walk  home  to-night,  and 
no  carriage  could  take  you  there.  There  is  but  one  thing 
for  you  to  do.  The  housekeeper  will  be  here  in  a  mo- 
ment. She  will  take  you  to  a  room.  Go  to  bed,  and 
take  what  I  have  ordered  for  you." 

<'  What  is  that  1 " 

"  More  whiskey — but  it  is  exactly  what  you  want.  In 
two  hours  they  will  have  dried  your  clothes,  and  you  can 
come  down  to  dinner  with — with  me."  His  "with  me  " 
is  rather  embarrassed  and  diffident. 

I  do  not  reply,  and  Mr.  Larchmont  almost  immediately 
continues  :  "  Or,  if  you  prefer  it,  the  dinner  can  be  sent 
up  to  your  room. " 

I  shall  feel  quite  lonely — it  will  appear  ungrateful.  "  I 
will  be  happy  to  meet  you  in  the  dining-room,"  I  answer. 

A  moment  after,  everything  he  has  arranged  is  done. 
I  go  with  the  housekeeper,  a  kindly  woman  of  large  build 
and  comfortable  manner,  and  find  myself  excellently  taken 
care  of. 

Two  hours  afterwards,  feeling  like  a  new  being,  I  enter 
the  dining-room.  It  is  only  half-past  seven,  and  Mr. 
Harry  Larchmont  is  apparently  waiting  for  me.  It  is  a 
pleasant,  though,  perhaps,  to  me,  embarrassing  meal. 
The  room  is  crowded  with  people  that  the  storm  has 
forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  hotel  — Brooklyn  men,  who 
cannot  get  across  the  East  River  ;  Jersey  men,  who  are 
cut  off  from  home  ;  and  down-town  brokers,  who  are  un- 
able to  reach  their  up-town  residences.  The  place,  in 
contrast  to  the  dreadful  dearth  of  animal  movement  in 
the  streets  outside,  is  full  of  life,  bustle,  and  activity. 

"  I  think  I  have  arranged  very  well  as  regards  dinner," 


88  BARON    MONTEZ. 

remarks  Mr.  Larchmont.  "We'll  have  to  be  contented 
with  condensed  milk,  but  we  shall  have  some  Florida 
strawberries,  and  Bermuda  potatoes  and  asparagus." 
As  we  sit  down,  he  says  suddenly  :  *'  Who  is  Sally  ?  " 

^'  Sally  ?     Ah,  you  mean  Miss  Broughton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  young  lady  you  said  would  be  anxious  about 
you." 

'*  Oh,"  I  answer,  "  Miss  Broughton  is  my  chum  !  "  Then 
we  get  to  chatting  together,  and  I  give  him  a  few  Sally 
anecdotes  that  make  him  laugh.  As  the  meal  goes  on  I 
grow  more  at  my  ease,  and  become  confidential,  and  tell 
him  a  good  deal  of  my  life,  my  work,  and  my  battle  with 
the  world.  This  seems  to  interest  him,  and  once,  when  I 
am  busy  with  my  knife  and  fork,  I  catch  his  eyes  resting 
upon  me,  and  they  seem  to  say  :  "  So  young  !  " 

But  I  won't  have  his  sympathy  ;  so  1  make  merry  over 
my  business  struggles,  and  tell  him  what  a  comfortable 
little  home  Sally  and  I  have. 

Altogether,  it  is  a  delightful  meal  for  me,  and  I  am 
not  sorry  that  Mr.  Larchmont  lingers  over  it.  He  grows 
slightly  confidential  himself,  over  his  coffee,  explaining 
to  me  that  he  has  had  some  very  important  telegrams 
to  receive  from  Paris  ;  that  the  up-town  wires  were  all 
down,  and  he  had  been  so  anxious  about  his  cables,  that 
he  had  contrived  to  get  as  far  as  the  main  office  of  the 
Western  Union  Company  ;  that  he  thanks  God  he  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so,  though  no  cablegrams  had  come  to 
him.  "  Because,"  he  concludes,  looking  at  me,  "  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  cables,  you  might  have  been  still 
outside  in  the  snow  !  " 

A  few  minutes  after,  he  startles  me  by  saying,  it  seems 
to  me  with  a  little  sigh,  "  I  must  be  going  !  " 

"Where — into  the  storm  ?"  I  gasp,  amazed, 

"Only  as  far  as  French's  Hotel,  just  across  in  Park 
Place. " 

I  know  "just  across  in  Park  Place  "  means  three  long 
squares — an  awful  distance,  which  might  kill  a  strong 
man  in  this  driving  storm. 

"  You  must  not  go  !  "  I  cry. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  I  must,"  he  replies,  and 
rises,  to  cut  short  remonstrance.  Then  I  go  out  with 
him  from  the  dining-room  into  the  hall,  a  blush  on  my 
cheeks,  but  a  grateful  look  in  my  eyes,  for  I  know  it  is  to 


BARON    MONTEZ.  89 

save  me  any  embarrassment  this  night  that  he  will  make 
his  desperate  journey  through  snowdrifts  and  pitiless 
wind. 

We  have  got  to  the  ladies'  parlor  now.  He  turns  and 
says  earnestly,  "  1  have  made  every  arrangement  for  you, 
I  think,  Miss  Minturn,  not  only  for  this  evening,  but  for 
to-morrow,  in  case  you  should  be  compelled  to  remain 
here.  I  am  more  than  happy,  and  bless  God  that  I  met 
you  in  time." 

And  I  whisper :  ''  You  have  been  to  me  the — the 
angel  of  the  blizzard  !  " 

At  which  he  smiles  a  little,  and  his  grasp  upon  my 
hand  tightens  as  he  bids  me  good-night. 

Then  he  is  gone  into  the  storm. 

I  go  to  my  room ;  a  fire  is  burning  brightly  there. 
Sleep  comes  upon  me,  and  happy  dreams — dreams  in 
which  I  make  a  fool  of  m)^self  about  "  the  angel  of  the 
blizzard." 

The  next  morning  everything  has  been  arranged  for 
me.  After  a  comfortable  breakfast,  I  discover  that  the 
storm  has  ceased,  but  the  streets  of  New  York  are  still 
impassable.  Then  T  get  a  newspaper,  and  learn  that 
the  indefatigable  reporters  have  somehow  got  informa- 
tion of  nearly  everything.  Glancing  over  its  columns,  I 
give  a  sigh  of  relief.  In  the  long  list  of  accidents, 
escapes,  and  deaths  on  that  twelfth  day  of  March,  1888, 
I  note  that  my  adventure  has  not  been  reported,  though 
I  read  that  French's  Hotel  had  been  so  crowded  that 
people  had  slept  upon  the  billiard-tables  and  floors  of 
that  hostelry,  and  one  up- town  swell  had  been  obliged  to 
content  himself  with  the  bar-counter.  I  guess  who  the 
up-town  swell  was  who  did  this  to  save  me  any  embar- 
rassment or  anxiety,  and  I  bless  him  ! 

I  bless  him  again,  when,  in  the  afternoon,  I  find  that 
the  streets  can  with  difficulty  be  navigated,  and  the  porter 
coming  up,  informs  me  that  a  carriage  has  been  ordered 
to  take  me,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  my  address  in  Seven- 
teenth Street. 

At  home,  I  am  welcomed  by  Sally,  with  happy  but 
anxious  eyes.  She  cries  :  "  Oh,  Louise  !  I  thought  you 
were  dead  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  reply  nonchalantly,  "  I  did  a  day's  work." 

"  And  then  ?  " 


9©  BARON    MONTEZ. 

'*  Then  I  went  to  the  Astor  House." 

"Did  you  have  money  enough  with  you  for  that?  I 
hear  they  charged  ten  dollars  a  room." 

"  That  bill  is  liquidated,"  I  return  in  easy  prevarication. 

*'  But  you  had  a  carriage  !  I  noticed  a  carriage  drive 
up  with  you.  How  will  you  ever  pay  the  hackman  ? 
They  charge  twenty-five  dollars  a  trip." 

"  Never  mind  my  finances.  I  am  home  safe  once  more. 
And  you  ?  "  I  answer,  turning  the  conversation. 

"  Oh,  I  nearly  starved  !  I  would  have  starved  entirely, 
had  I  not  forced  m.y  way  to  the  grocery  store.  1  have 
been  living  on  crackers  and  cheese,  bologna  sausage,  and 
tea  without  milk." 

"  I  have  been  enjoying  the  '  fat  of  the  land.'  You  had 
better  have  gone  down  with  me,  Sally.  You  would  have 
had  a  delightful  day,"  I  continue  airily  to  my  pretty 
chum,  who  looks  at  me  in  partial  unbelief. 

Then  the  next  morning  comes  a  joy  — a  rapture— a  sur- 
prise !  It  is  a  bunch  of  violets  tied  with  violet  ribbon, 
with  the  name  of  a  fashionable  florist  emblazoned  on  it, 
and  with  it  this  card  : 


(^^yyyA^f'?rLe^c<yfy'    c^ 


Fortunately,  Sally  is  out  when  this  arrives,  so  I  avoid 
explanation.  When  she  comes  in,  the  flowers  soon  catch 
her  bright  eyes.  She  ejaculates,  "  Violets  !  Where  did 
you  get  violets.  Miss  Millionnaire  ? "  and  smells  them  to 
be  sure  they  are  genuine — not  artificial. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  9 1 

*'  Why  do  you  call  me  Miss  Millionnaire  ?  " 

"Well,  no  one  but  a  Miss  Millionnaire  can  live  at  the 
Astor  House  during  blizzards,  and  perambulate  in  car- 
riages at  twenty-five  dollars  a  trip,  and  have  great  big 
bunches  of  violets  at  a  dollar  a  blossom  !  Gracious  ! 
They  must  have  cost  thirty  dollars  !  Every  flower  on 
Long  Island  was  destroyed  by  snow."  Then  Sally's  eyes 
open  very  wide  with  inquiry,  and  she  says  coaxingly  : 
"Who  sent  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  I  reply  in  easy  nonchalance,  "I  gathered  them  !  " 

"  Gathered  them  ?  Where  ?  "  These  are  screams  of 
unbelief. 

"  Off  the  snowdrifts  on  Sixth  Avenue,  over  which  they 
have  placed  a  sign  '  Keep  off  the  grass  ! '  " 

"  That  means  you  will  not  tell  me,"  says  Sally,  with  a 
pout. 

"  Precisely  !  " 

*'  What  makes  you  fib  so  much  lately  ?  "  she  mutters 
disappointedly. 

"  It  is  not  a  fib — that  I  will  not  tell  you." 

"  Very  well  !  I  shall  inform  Mr.  Tompkins  !  "  replies 
Sally  spitefully,  which  threat  causes  me  to  burst  into 
hysterical  merriment,  I  am  in  such  good  spirits. 

I  write  to  him  at  his  address  :  "  I  am  quite  well.  I 
thank  you  for  the  violets,  but  for  the  rest— thanks  are 
too  feeble.  I  only  hope  some  day  the  mouse  may  aid 
the  lion.     L.  R.  M." 

I  initial  this  note. 

Somehow  I  don't  know  how  to  end  it.  I  have  grown 
strangely  bashful  and  diffident  lately. 

That  was  only  a  week  ago.  Once  since  then  I  have 
seen  him  at  the  theatre,  in  attendance  upon  ladies,  one 
of  the  party  being  Miss  Jessie  Severn. 

As  I  have  looked  at  him  I  have  noticed  that  a  good 
deal  of  the  lightness  has  left  his  face,  and  a  portion  of 
the  laughter  has  departed  from  his  eyes.  Has  some  cloud 
come  over  his  life  ? 

As  I  look  over  my  diary  an'd  recall  these  things,  a 
sudden  thought  strikes  me.  I  am  going  away  without 
bidding  him  good-by.  That  will  be  hardly  grateful.  It 
is  half-past  four  :  he  may  be  walking  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
It  would  hardly  be  wrong  to  say  "farewell"  on  a 
crowded  street. 


92  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Five  minutes,  and  I  have  flown  over  to  that  fashionable 
promenade,  and  am  strolling  up  its  thronged  sidewalk. 

I  am  in  luck.  Near  Thirty-first  Street  I  see  him 
stepping  out  of  a  fashionable  club.  But  there  is  another 
gentleman  with  him,  almost  his  counterpart  save  that  he 
is  ten  years  older,  and  has  a  foreign  and  un-American 
air  and  style  about  him.  This  must  be  Harry  Larch- 
mont's  French  brother — the  one  Mr.  Uelafield  had 
sneered  at. 

Of  course  I  cannot  speak  to  him  now. 

To  my  passing  bow  Mr.  Larchmont  responds  with 
more  than  politeness.  As  I  pass,  I  catch  four  words 
from  the  gentleman  who  is  with  him.  "  She  is  deuced 
pretty  !  " 

Fortunately  I  am  beyond  them  ;  they  cannot  see  my 
blushes  through  the  back  of  my  head.  What  would  I 
not  give  to  have  heard  Harry  Larchmont's  reply ! 

As  it  is,  I  shall  not  even  bid  him  good-by.  I  return 
curiously  disappointed  to  our  rooms  on  Seventeenth 
Street. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A    CHANCE    MEETING    AT    DELMONICO'S. 

As  I  enter  from  my  unsuccessful  promenade,  Sally's 
sweet  lips  give  me  a  kiss,  and  Sally's  laughing  voice 
says  :  "  Well,  Miss  Lazy,  I  beat  you  home  after  all  !  " 

Then,  as  if  sudden  suspicion  has  come  to  her,  she 
cries  :  "  Did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

*'  Him — who  ?  "  I  gasp,  as  a  startled  blush  comes  upon 
me. 

"Why,  Mr.  Tompkins,  of  course  !  " 

"  Mr.  Tompkins  ?  "  I  reply  icily,  "  Do  you  suppose  I 
would  go  out  walking  with  Mr.  Tompkins  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  didn't  think  I  meant  Alfred  !  Who  did  you 
suppose  J  meant?  Is — is  there  some  one  else?  Those 
violets  !  Are  you  keeping  a  secret  from  me  ? "  and 
Sally's  bright  eyes  are  gazing  into  mine  with  sudden 
and   embarrassing  inquiry. 

Whatever  have  been  my  wild  thoughts  about  this 
gentleman  of  clubs  and   cotillons  and  fashion,    I   have 


BARON    MONTEZ.  93 

made  no  confidant  of  my  chum,  nor  any  one  else — nor 
ever  shall  ! 

To  turn  the  conversation  from  this  dangerous  ground, 
I  suggest:  ''Come  I  Help  me  pack  my  trunk,  as  you 
promised  to." 

"  Not  till  to-morrow,"  answers  my  volatile  companion. 
"  You  must  keep  your  best  dress  out  for  to-night." 

"  To-night— why  ?  " 
'■^'"To-night  Mr.  Tompkins  and  Mr.   Jenkins   have  re- 
quested the  pleasure  of  escorting  us  to  the  theatre." 

"  The  theatre  !     I  have  too  much  to  do. " 

"  Nonsense  !  Your  trunk  isn't  such  a  very  large  one. 
I'll  help  you  to-morrow.  Besides,  you'll  spoil  our  party. 
I  can't  go  out  with  two  gentlemen.  This  will  be  your 
last  chance  to  do  me  a  great  favor." 

As  she  says  this,  Sally's  blue  eyes  are  fixed  in  entreaty 
upon  mine.  The  thought  of  parting  from  her  makes  me 
pliable  to  cajoling.     "  Very  well  I  "  I  assent. 

"  Ah  !  I  thought  I  could  persuade  you,  and  have 
already  arranged  the  party,"  says  Miss  Broughton,  who 
is  even  now  in  her  best  bib  and  tucker,  and  looks  very 
well  in  it — her  bib  being  a  handsome  fur-trimmed 
jacket ;  and  her  tucker,  a  pretty  and  modest  fawn- 
colored  cloth  dress,  that  drapes  her  rather  under-sized, 
but  plump  figure,  with  graceful  folds. 

"  This  will  make  him  happy,"  she  continues  thought- 
fully.    "  He  comes  to  take  us  to  dinner " 

"  He— who?" 

"  Mr.  Tompkins,  of  course  !  It  is  to  be  at  the  Dairy 
Kitchen,  where  they  have  music.  We  will  have  a  jolly 
time  I  But  goodness,  hurry  !  I  hear  his  step  upon  the 
stairs,  and  you  are  not  yet  in  festive  array  !  " 

Thus  adjured,  I  retire  to  our  bedroom,  and  in  fifteen 
minutes  come  out  to  meet  Mr.  Tompkins,  who  is  talking 
to  Sally,  as  she  puts  on  her  hat.  As  I  enter,  their  con- 
versation floats  to  me. 

"  She  is  so  deuced  haughty  !  "  says  the  gentleman. 

"  Haughty  ?  How  absurd  !  She's  affability  itself," 
returns  the  young  lady. 

"  Yes,  to  girls  !  "  answers  Mr.  Tompkins  snappishly. 
Then  he  turns  and  sees  me.  My  efforts  at  personal 
adornment  seem  to  be  pleasing  to  him,  for  I  catch  a 
stifled    "  By  Jove  !  "  as   he  regards  me,  and  Sally  gives 


94  BARON    MONTEZ. 

a  little  cry,  partly  of  surprise,  partly — I  am  vain  enough 
to  think — of  admiration  ;  for  before  my  glass,  a  sudden 
thought  had  flown  into  my  mind.  "  Perhaps  at  the 
theatre  I  may  meet  ///;;/  /  "  And  I  had  drawn  upon  the 
utmost  limits  of  my  wardrobe,  to  make  myself  as  alluring 
as  possible,  with,  I  think,  very  good  effect. 

Perchance  this  accounts  for  Mr.  Tompkins'  more  than 
usually  effusive  manner,  as  he  greets  me  with,  "■  How  are 
yer  ? "  and  then  murmurs:  "This  is  exquisite,  Miss 
Louise.     I  take  it  as  a  personal  compliment  !  " 

"  I  never  compliment  anybody  !  "  I  reply  icily. 

Then  I  grow  red  a  little,  for  it  has  suddenly  struck  me  I 
have  been  complimenting  Mr.  Harry  Larchmont.  My 
blushes  seem  to  please  Mr.  Tompkins.  He  shows  a 
rapture  in  his  face  which  embarrasses  me.  A  moment 
after,  he  suggests  :  "  You  have  something  on  your  mind  ?  " 
For  I  have  got  to  thinking  of  Panama,  and  have  placed 
my  latch-key  on  the  table,  instead  of  putting  it  in  my 
pocket. 

"  Yes,"  I  reply,  "  there  is  something  on  my  mind.  I 
am  going " 

A  biting  pinch  from  Sally's  quick  Angers  makes  me 
pause — half  in  astonishment,  half  in  pain. 

A  second  after,  getting  opportunity  as  we  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  our  toilettes  in  the  little  bedroom, 
she  whispers  :  "  Don't  tell  him  now." 

"Why  not?''  I  ejaculate. 

"  Because  you'll  spoil  our  theatre  party.  I  can't  ex- 
plain now  ;  but  don't  tell  either  of  the  gentlemen  till  we 
get  home.     Promise  !  " 

"  Certainly.  It  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me  whether 
Mr.  Tompkins  or  Mr.  Jenkins  ever  know  of  my  de- 
parture !  "  I  answer. 

So  we  rejoin  our  escort,  who  is  a  florid  little  fellow, 
not  much  over  five  feet  seven,  with  a  quick,  dapper  walk. 
He  wears  the  conventional  evening  dress  of  the  day,  em- 
bellished by  a  heavy  gold  chain  across  his  vest,  that  does 
not  seem  to  me  to  be  exactly  the  mode.  At  all  events, 
Mr.  Larchmont  never  wears  one. 

A  moment  after,  we  are  under  way  for  the  Dairy 
Kitchen,  a  gorgeous  restaurant  on  Fourteenth  Street, 
that  accommodates  the  well-to-do  hundred  thousand,  and 
furnishes  them  with  a  very  fair  dinner  at  a  reasonable 


BARON    MONTEZ.  95 

price,  accompanied  by  the  music  of  an  indifferent  or- 
chestra, and  the  discordant  sounds  of  half  a  hundred 
waiters,  who  clash  their  dishes  together  with  vivacious 
activity. 

Under  its  brilliant  arc-lights  we  meet  Mr.  Jenkins, 
one  of  the  floorwalkers  of  Pacy  &  Company,  who  says  in 
a  loud  voice,  that  is  suggestive  to  me  of  "  Cash  !  "  :  **  I 
jaave  kept  this  table  for  you  for  twenty  minutes,  and  am 
hungry." 

"  Then  you  must  wear  your  dress  coat  in  the  store.  I 
don't  think  you  ever  get  away  till  at  least  a  quarter  a/fer 
six,  at  Pacy's,"  sneers  the  haughty  Alfred  Tompkins. 

Mr.  Jenkins,  crushed  by  this  business  sarcasm,  regards 
us  in  gloomy  and  hungry  silence,  as  we  take  seats  at 
his  table,  and  Mr.  Tompkins  suggests :  "  Have  you 
ordered  the  me^u,  Horace  ?  " 

"  No  !  What's  that  ?  "  asks  Jenkins  suddenly,  at  which 
I  stifle  incipient  laughter,  and  Miss  Broughton  suggests 
with  playful  sarcasm  :  "  Perhaps  he  thought  it  was  the 
oysters  ! " 

At  Sally's  badinage  Mr.  Jenkins  grows  so  savage,  that 
I  turn  the  conversation,  by  hastily  asking  :  "  To  what 
theatre  are  you  going  to  take  us  ?  " 

After  giving  the  necessary  orders  for  our  entertainment, 
Mr.  Tompkins  condescends  to  furnish  me  the  informa- 
tion I  ask.  "  I  have  procured  tickets,"  he  says,  "for  the 
Paragon." 

"  The  Paragon  !  "  Sally  screams  in  horror.  "  Why  do 
you  always  take  us  to  the  Paragon  ?  Now  if  it  had  been 
Fauntleroy,  that  I  have  been  dying  to  see  for  six  months, 
that  would  have  been  something  like.  Couldn't  you  do 
it  now?     It  is  getting  near  the  end  of  its  run." 

Here  Mr.  Jenkins  candidly  remarks :  "  Fauntleroy 
tickets  are  not  on  the  bargain  counter  yet." 

At  this  soft  insinuation  Mr.  Tompkins  hems  and  blushes. 

The  theatres  that  Mr.  Tompkins  patronizes,  are  always 
those  that  have  on  their  boards  either  unsuccessful  pieces, 
or  plays  that  have  been  performed  so  long  that,  their  first 
flush  of  glory  being  over,  the  management  are  liberal 
with  complimentary  tickets.  His  position  as  floorwalker 
in  a  leading  dry-goods  establishment  gives  him  rather  a 
command  of  these  tributes  of  managerial  favor,  for  he 
has  been  quite  successful,  in  his  day,  in  making  full  houses 


g6  BARON    MONTEZ, 

for  them  ;  and  several  times  the  employees  of  his  house, 
have  attended  some  of  our  leading  theatres  almost  in  a 
body,  giving  them  the  appearance  of  great  prosperity  and 
crowded  houses.  To  "  first  nights  "  Mr.  Tompkins  sel- 
dom invites  any  one.  In  fact,  he  says  he  does  not  like 
them.  He  prefers  a  play  to  grow  mellow  and  old,  and  to 
receive  the  polish  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  performances, 
before  he  visits  it.  At  the  Paragon,  however,  he  some- 
times invites  people  to  "  first  nights,"  though  at  the  box 
office  it  is  always  said  :    *'We  are  sold  up  to  Q." 

Consequently  it  is  the  Paragon  to  which  Mr.  Tompkins 
is  going  to  take  us  this  evening. 

At  his  announcement,  m.y  heart  sinks ;  for  I  am  very 
certain  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont  will  not  be  in  its  or- 
chestra chairs  or  boxes  :  and  a  half  hysterical  regret,  for 
which  I  anathematize  myself,  comes  into  my  mind. 
**  Perhaps  I  will  not  see  him  before  I  go." 

Noting  my  pre-occupied  manner,  Mr.  Tompkins  in  his 
most  dulcet  tones  suggests :  "  Is  the  something  on  your 
mind,  that  Miss  Sally  spoke  of,  destroying  your  appe- 
tite ? "  Then  he  whispers,  a  Romeo  timbre  in  his  voice: 
"  Is  it  about  ;;z^— Alfredo  ?  " 

At  this  I  give  a  start.  The  romantic  tone  of  the  gen- 
tleman— Sally's  hint  not  to  tell  him  of  my  departure.  A 
sudden  suspicion  comes  into  my  mind,  that  makes  me 
very  icy  and  haughty  to  Mr.  Tompkins. 

A  few  minutes  after,  we  all  stroll  over  to  Broadway 
to  take  car  to  visit  the  Paragon,  a  little  theatre  where 
they  sometimes  have  very  good  plays,  but  rarely  full 
houses. 

The  performance  this  evening  is  a  pleasant  one,  and 
the  party  leave  the  theatre  in  very  good  spirits,  except 
me. 

We  walk  over  to  Fifth  Avenue,  and  turn  down  this 
great  thoroughfare,  crowded  with  rushing  cabs  and 
carriages  coming  from  the  theatres.  During  our  walk 
Mr.  Tompkins  'announces  to  us  that  he  has  had  a 
great  stroke  of  business  luck  ;  that  he  has  been  promoted 
to  a  higher  department,  with  a  better  salary.  He  has 
apparently  kept  this  piece  of  news  to  impress  either  Mr. 
Jenkins,  Sally  or  myself. 

As  we  approach  Twenty-sixth  Street,  this  gentleman's 
good  fortune  seems  to  have  made  him  financially  reck- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  97 

less.     He   suddenly  says  :    "  What  do  you  say,    young 
ladies,  to  supper  at  Del's  ?  " 

"  Supper  at  Del's  !  "  ejaculates  Sally  in  unbelief. 

*'  Certainly." 

"Catch  me  !"  gasps  Miss  Broughton  and  pretends  to 
be  overcome.  But  Tompkins  repeats  sternly  :  *'  I  mean 
it  !     A  supper  at  Del's  !  " 

••'This  is  too  good  a  chance  for  Jenkins  to  refuse.     He 
answers,  "  Right  you  are  !  "  and  promptly  leads  the  way. 

For  a  moment  I  am  about  to  draw  back.  An  awning 
is  up  on  Twenty-sixth  Street;  a  cotillon,  or  dinner  dance, 
or  Patriarchs'  ball,  or  something  of  that  kind  is  going  on 
in  the  ballroom  up-stairs.  It  is  quite  probable  that  Harry 
Sturgis  I.archmont  may  be  there.  I  may  meet  him  in 
the  restaurant  or  the  hall,  and  I  shrink  from  this  fashion- 
able gentleman  encountering  me  under  the  escort  of  the 
florid  Tompkins. 

But  Sally  pulls  at  my  arm,  whispering  :  "  A  supper  at 
Delmonico's  !     It  is  the  chance  of  your  life  !  " 

Hesitation  would  be  absurd.  I  know  she  will  try  and 
drag  me  in  if  I  do  not  go,  and  I  follow  them. 

Looking  on  our  party  as  we  pass  in,  I  am  content  with 
Miss  Broughton  and  myself,  though  the  gentlemen  do 
not  impress  me  "as  to  the  manner  born  "  to  the  glories 
of  this  fashionable  restaurant.  Sally's  dress  is  certainly 
very  nice.  My  own  I  know  is  all  right.  Besides,  the 
hall  boy,  as  he  takes  and  checks  our  wraps,  is  politeness 
and  humility  itself.  The  haughty  head  waiter,  however, 
impresses  me  more  strongly,  as  he  precedes  us,  remark- 
ing :  "  Table  pou)'  quatre  !  " 

Our  escorts'  clothes,  however,  do  not  impose  upon  me. 
True,  they  both  wear  swallow-tail  coats,  but  their  fashion 
is  not  of- the  latest  mode  ;  and  their  vests  are  not  of  the 
white  duck  I  see  some  of  the  gentlemen  at  the  neigh- 
boring tables  wearing.  Besides  that,  both  of  them  have 
three  horribly  big  exaggerated  studs  in  their  shirt 
fronts. 

I  am  delighted  when  they  sit  down  and  hide  their  watch- 
guards  from  view  ;  for  this  atmosphere  is  one  to  disclose 
slight  defects  in  the  dress  of  either  man  or  woman. 

The  room  is  a  blaze  of  electric  light.  The  toilettes  of 
the  ladies,  some  of  whom  are  in  graceful  and  beauti- 
ful evening  gowns,  having  just  come  in  from  the  opera, 


98  BARON    MONTEZ. 

are  nearly  all  magnificent;  the  dress  suits  of  the  gentle- 
men, perfect  in  detail. 

"  This  time  we  have  a  menu,'*  remarks  Mr.  Tompkins 
proudly,  and  shows  it  to  Mr.  Jenkins,  as  the  waiter  places 
it  in  front  of  him. 

A  moment  after,  he  surreptitiously  passes  the  carte 
du  Jour  to  me,  m.uttering :  "  Confound  it !  It  is  printed 
in  French.  Won't  you  assist  me,  Miss  Louise?"  my 
knowledge  of  that  language  being  known  to  him. 

"  I'll  save  you  the  trouble,"  laughs  Sally.  "  The  other 
side  of  the  card  is  in  English." 

Then  Mr.  Tompkins,  his  face  covered  with  embarrass- 
ment, orders  oysters,  some  cold  partridges,  ice-cream,  and 
a  bottle  of  champagne  ;  and  thoughtlessly  being  lured 
into  unknown  fields  of  extravagance  by  the  waiter's  sug- 
gestion, adds  terrapin  to  his  bill  of  fare,  and  we  have  a 
very  pleasant  meal  of  it. 

My  ears,  however,  are  devoted  to  the  conversation  at 
the  table  next  us.  The  people  there  are  giving  me  infor- 
mation that  interests  me.  One  of  the  ladies  remarks 
carelessly :  '*  Mrs.  Dewitt,  I  hear,  goes  to  Europe  on 
Saturday.     I  believe  she  chaperons  Miss  Severn." 

"  Of  course  Mr.  Larchmont  goes  with  his  ward,"  is  the 
reply  of  a  gentleman. 

"  Oh,  certainly  ;  they  leave  on  the  Aurania.  They 
say  Mr.  Larchmont  is  interested  in  pretty  Miss  Jessie 
much  more  personally,  than  as  trustee  of  her  estate,  and 
guardian  of  her  person." 

i  catch  no  more  of  this  conversation,  as  the  party  giv- 
ing it  to  my  ears  now  rise  and  leave  the  restaurant. 

Soon  we  are  going  also,  Mr.  Tompkins  looking  sorrow- 
fully at  his  bill.  As  we  reach  the  hall,  the  incident  comes 
to  me  that  I  have  dreaded,  yet  hoped  for.  I  again  see 
Harry  Larchmont's  pleasant  face. 

He  is  talking  to  a  gentleman  standing  near  the  office. 

His  friend  says  :  "  You  lead  the  cotillon  with  Miss 
Severn,  I  understand,  to-night  ?  " 

"Yes,  for  the  last  time — perhaps."  This  with  a  little 
sigh. 

"  Why  the  last  time  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  away." 

This  confirms  the  news  I  have  just  heard  of  him  from 
the  party  in  the  restaurant. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  99- 

A  moment  later,  his  glance  catches  mine.  The  hall- 
boy  is  about  to  hand  me  my  wrap. 

In  a  second  he  stands  beside  me,  with  outstretched 
hand,  which  I  do  not  refuse,  and  says  :  "  How  do  you 
do,  Miss  Minturn  ?    No  after  effects  from  the  blizzard  ? " 

"  No,"  I  reply,  "  only  gratitude." 

But  the  blizzard  has  left  an  after  effect  on  me.  I  turn 
iriy  head  away,  my  cheeks  are  burning. 

''  Nonsense  !  "  he  replies  lightly.  "  Don't  think  of  the 
affair  in  that  serious  way.  I  regard  it  now — only  with 
pleasure." 

"  What !  When  you  slept  on  a  counter  that  night,"  I 
return. 

As  this  is  going  on,  he  is  cloaking  me  with  that  deft 
ease  which  indicates  the  squire  of  dames,  while  Mr. 
Tompkins,  who  has  hurried  to  my  side  to  proffer  a 
similar  attention,  stands  glaring  at  this  unknown  swell 
who  is  acting  as  my  cavalier  for  the  moment. 

A  second  later,  Mr.  Larchmont  whispers  :  "  I  am  most 
happy  to  have  seen  you  before  I  go  away. 

"  C)h,  I  am  going  away  also  !  "  I  reply. 

"  Indeed  !     Where  ?  " 

''  On  the  Co/o/i " 

He  interrupts  this  with  a  little  start,  saying  :  "  On 
the  Co/on?  Then  I  shall  only  say  au  revoir,"  bows, 
rejoins  his  friend,  and  the  two  go  up-stairs,  from  which 
the  sound  of  music  tells  us  of  the  coming  dance  ;  while 
I  look  on  his  departing  figure,  wondering  what  he  means. 

During  this,  Sally  has  been  gazing  at  me  with  very 
large  eyes  ;  and  as  we  pass  out,  is  questioning  eagerly  : 
"  Isn't  he  very  handsome  ?     Who  is  he  ?  " 

I  reply,  attempting  nonchalance  :  "  Mr.  Harry  Sturgis 
Larchmont." 

This  announcement  is  received  by  unbelieving  sneers 
from  both  Mr.  Jenkins  and  Mr.  Tompkins,  who  have  read 
many  times  of  Mr.  Larchmont  in  the  society  columns  of 
their  morning  newspapers. 

"  What  I  "  screams  Sally,  careless  of  overhearing  cab- 
men, "  the  leader  of  cotillons  ?  the  howling  swell  ?  " 

*'I  don't  know  about  the  howling  swell,"  I  reply,  "but 
I  believe  he  leads  the  cotillon  this  evening." 

"Good  heavens  I  Why  did  you  not  introduce  me  ?  " 
This  is  a  sigh  of  unutterable  reproach  at  lost  opportu- 


TOO  BARON    MONTEZ. 

nity  ;  then  Sally  goes  on  impetuously  :   *'  I  would  so  like 
to  know  a  real  swell  before  I  die  !  " 

At  this  uncomplimentary  speech,  Jenkins  grinds  his 
teeth,  as  he  walks  by  her  side,  and  Mr.  Tompkins  grows 
pale,  for  he  fears  I  have  told  the  truth. 

So  we  go  home,  they  all  questioning  me,  "  How  did  I 
know  him  ?" 

This  Sally  answers  for  me.  She  says  proudly  :  **  He 
is  a  relic  of  her  former  life.  You  know  that  Louise  is 
Miss  Minturn — one  of  the  real  Minturns.  You  can  read 
of  her  cousins,  aunts,  and  uncles  every  day,  in  the  society 
columns  of  the  papers.  They  are  dancing  now,  perhaps, 
with  Mr.  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont." 

At  this  suggestion  comes  the  thought  that  he  is  dancing 
now  with  Miss  Jessie  Severn,  and  the  idea  which  has  been 
in  my  mind  so  often,  comes  up  with  renewed  force.  Had 
not  misfortune  befallen  my  mother's  parents  on  the  Isth- 
mus, I  might  have  been  dancing  the  German  with  him, 
in  her  place,  and  this  makes  me  severe — severe  with  poor 
Tompkins,  from  whose  remarks  I  turn  with  disdain. 

By  this  time  we  are  at  our  home  in  Seventeenth  Street. 
Mr.  Jenkins  leaves  us  at  the  door,  apparently  not  having 
forgiven  Miss  Sally  for  her  remark  about  a  real  swell. 

A  moment  after,  Mr.  Tompkins  bids  us  adieu,  and 
turns  to  follow  him. 

I  am  about  to  bid  him  good-by  as  well  as  good-night 
and  tell  him  of  my  intended  departure  ;  but  Sally  whis- 
pers to  me:  "He  will  know  to-morrow."  Then  as  the 
young  man  disappears  she  archly  says  :  "  Yes,  he  is  sure 
to  turn  up  to-morrow.  He  turns  up  every  day.  Per- 
haps Mr.  Tompkins  will  sleep  better  to-night  if  he  does 
not  hear  the  news  until  to-morrow." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense  ! "  I  return,  as  we  run  up  to- 
gether to  our  rooms.  In  the  parlor.  Miss  Broughton, 
who  has  been  in  high  spirits  all  the  evening,  suddenly 
changes  her  mood. 

.She  looks  at  me  wistfully,  and  says  :  "  Louie,  only  one 
night  more  together  after  this  I  " 

Then  we  two  lonely  ones  in  this  world  gaze  at  each 

other,  and  our  eyes  grow  dim  ;  and  after  we  have  gone 

to  bed  I  hear  dear  little  Sally  sobbing,  until  sleep  comes 

to  us  both  and  gives  us  rest. 

-  The  next  morning  Miss  Broughton  has  apparently  re- 


BARON     MOiSl-TKg.  \  .^i    ^^pl 

gained  her  spirits.  She  whispers  :  "  You  will  write  to 
me  often,  and  if  you  don't  like  it  there,  come  back." 

"  I  have  a  contract." 

"  Come  back,  contract  or  no  contract.  They  can't 
chain  you  there.  With  sixty  dollars  a  week  you  can  save 
money  to  pay  your  own  passage." 

"And  you  !  "  I  say  anxiously.  "  What  are  you  going  to 
dp  ? '; 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right  !  "  she  runs  on.  "  I  have  got  Laura 
Button  to  come  and  take  your  place.  She  won't  be  such 
pleasant  company,  but  is  of  a  motherly  disposition,  and 
I  think  will  keep  me  in  good  order." 

So,  breakfast  being  over,  I  am  compelled  to  go  to  the 
office  of  Flandreau  &  Co.,  to  sign  the  contract,  and  com- 
plete my  arrangements  for  departure. 

There  I  meet  the  dapper  little  clerk  again,  who  is  very 
polite  to  me,  and  has  the  contract  drawn  up,  to  be  signed 
in  duplicate,  by  which  I  bind  myself  for  one  year  to 
furnish  my  stenographic  services  to  the  firm  of  Montez 
Aguilla  et  Cie.,  contractors  construction,  Panama,  for  the 
sum  of  sixty  dollars  per  week  and  the  various  other 
emoluments  that  had  been  agreed  to  between  us. 

These  documents  are  in  printed  forms  in  Spanish, 
apparently  being  in  general  use  by  the  Panama  firm  to 
cover  their  agreements  for  labor. 

Somehow  or  other,  the  name  of  the  firm — Montez 
Aguilla  et  Cie.,  seems  to  me  familiar. 

These  contracts  I  take  to  Miss  Work,  who  has  advised 
to  this  effect,  and  she  gets  a  young  lawyer  in  a  neighbor- 
ing office  to  see  if  they  are  what  I  wish.  I  translate  them 
to  him,  and  this  gentleman  pronounces  them,  in  his  judg- 
ment, satisfactory.  1  put  my  name  to  them,  and  returning 
to  the  office  in  South  Street,  they  are  signed  by  Flandreau 
&  Co.  as  agents  for  the  firm  with  which  I  contract. 

My  ticket  for  Panama,  for  a  first-class  passage,  is  given 
me,  and  1  am  informed  that  the  captain  of  the  steamer 
Co/on  will  take  charge  of  me  as  far  as  the  Atlantic  side 
of  the  Isthmus.  There  Mr.  Stuart,  the  agent  of  the 
Pacific  Steamship  Company  at  Colon,  will  see  about  my 
railroad  ticket,  and  transfer  me  across  the  Isthmus.  I 
am  given  letters  of  introduction  to  both  these  gentle- 
men, and  sufficient  money  in  hand  for  any  reasonable 
expenses  that  may  come  to  me  upon  the  voyage. 


IG2  L'ARON    MONTEZ. 

All  this  has  been  done  by  one  o'clock  in  the  day,  and 
I  depart  for  our  rooms  up  town,  I  purchasing  on  the 
way  a  little  souvenir  de  remembrajtce  for  Sally. 

Miss  Broughton  is  waiting  for  me,  for  she  has  given 
up  her  day's  work  to  pack  my  trunk  and  see  the  last 
of  me.  This  packing  does  not  take  long.  My  ward- 
robe, though  good,  is  not  extensive  ;  but  I  have  pur- 
chased a  few  light  and  I  think  pretty  gowns,  suitable 
for  a  warm  climate.  So  together  we  soon  make  quick 
work  of  the  trunk.  But  this  very  packing  brings  the 
past  back  to  me. 

Among  the  mementos  left  me  by  my  dead  mother  are 
a  few  things  she  had  received  from  her  own.  One  is  a 
picture  of  a  beautiful  lady  in  the  dress  of  thirty  years 
ago.  It  is  a  tintype,  bearing  on  the  back  :  "  Edouarfs 
Gallery,  A  7nb retypes  and  Daguerreotypes^  634  Washing- 
ton  Street,  San  Francisco."  There  is  also  a  package  of 
letters  my  mother  had  received  as  a  schoolgirl,  from  her 
parents  in  California.  These  I  have  looked  over  before. 
Some  time  on  the  Isthmus  I  will  read  them  again. 

Perhaps  I  may  learn  the  fate  of  the  writers  at  Panama. 
Perhaps  I  may  regain  the  treasure  that  was  lost  with 
them.  Perhaps  I  may  be —  Pshaw  !  Nonsense  !  Their 
fate  came  on  them  thirty  years  ago. 

We  have  had  our  dinner,  and  eight  o'clock  comes,  and 
with  it  Mr.  Tompkins.  The  trunk  is  now  out  in  the 
parlor,  strapped  and  labelled. 

This  trunk  seems  to  give  Mr.  Tompkins  a  sensation. 
Almost  as  he  wishes  me  good-evening,  it  catches  his  eye. 
He  says  hurriedly  :  "  You  are  going  away  ?" 

''Yes,  to-morrow." 

"And  where  do  you  think  she  is  going?"  interjects 
Sally. 

"  To  Long  Island,"  suggests  Mr.  Tompkins  uncertain- 

"  To  Panama  for  a  year — under  contract  at  sixty  dol- 
lars a  week — and  first-class  passage  there  and  back  ! " 
cries  Miss  Broughton. 

"  To  Panama  !  "  gasps  the  gentleman.     "  Impossible  !  " 

"  Look  at  that  trunk  !     Read  its  label  !  "  returns  Sally. 

''  Miss  Louise  Ripley  Minturn,  Panama,  via  steamship 
Colo7ir 

Reading  this,  Mr.  Tompkins  believes,  and  sinks  down. 


BARON     MONTEZ.  I03 

overcome,  upon  our  little  sofa.  But  only  for  a  moment. 
Then  conviction  has  such  an  awful  effect  upon  him,  that 
Sally  and  1  stare  at  his  emotion. 

He  rises,  an  inch  added  to  his  height,  a  desperate  de- 
termination in  his  face,  and  cries  :  "  Put  that  trunk  away  ! 
Unpack  it  at  once  !     I  forbid  you  to  go  !  " 

His  manner  is  so  extraordinary,  and  there  is  such  a 
,wild  light  in  his  eyes,  that  Miss  Broughton,  having  raised 
the  Romeo  in  him,  runs  away  from  it  into  the  other 
room,  with  a  stifled  giggle. 

This  is  perhaps  fortunate,  as  Mr.  Tompkins'  emotions 
have  suddenly  become  of  a  most  embarrassingly  ardent 
nature  to  me.  At  last  I  realize  why  Sally  has  prevented 
any  knowledge  of  my  departure  reaching  the  romantic 
Tompkins  before.  He  is  given  to  the  emotions  in  their 
most  violent  and  dramatic  form. 

Looking  at  me  he  mutters  in  reproachful  tones  :  "  And 
you  kept  it  from  me  ?  "  then  again  cries  out  in  a  des- 
perate way  :  "  But  I  will  not  let  you  leave  !  " 

However,  I  steady  myself  and  say  determinedly  : 
"  That  is  impossible  !     1  have  signed  a  contract." 

*'  I  want  you  to  sign  a  contract  with  me  !  "  he  returns, 
an  awful  romantic  significance  in  his  voice,  ''  a  contract 
to  be  my  wife." 

He  is  coming  towards  me.  In  another  moment  his 
arm  will  be  about  my  waist.  With  a  gasp  of  consterna- 
tion, I  place  the  trunk  between  us. 

From  the  other  side  of  it  he  still  addresses  me.  "  Yes- 
terday I  was  made  very  happy.  My  salary  was  raised. 
It  is  sufficient  to  support  a  wife.  Tell  me,  Miss  Minturn 
— Louise,  that  you  will  enjoy  that  salary  with  me !  " 
He  reaches  to  seize  my  hand,  but  three  feet  of  trunk 
prevent  him. 

*'  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  business  success,  Mr. 
Tompkins,"  I  reply,  trying  to  stifle  any  emotion  that  may 
be  in  me. 

"  Your  Alfred's  success  !  "  he  cries.  "  Call  me  Al- 
fred !  "  and  steps  to  my  side  of  the  trunk,  but  I,  with  a 
deft  spring,  keep  it  between  us. 

'*  Will  you  marry  me  ? "  he  asks  in  eager  tone. 

'•  No  !  "  I  answer  desperately,  for  his  hand  has  caught 
my  arm,  and  there  are  kisses  in  his  eyes,  "  No  !  Never  !  " 

Then  comes  an  awful  scene.     He  reproaches  me  for 


I04  BARON    MONTEZ. 

having  made  him  love  me— me,  who  had  hardly  given 
him  a  thought— who  had  not  even  cared  enough  about 
him  to  guess  what  Sally's  insinuations  had  meant. 

Finally  he  exclaims  :  "  I  know  it  now  ;  you  love  an- 
other !  "  and  grinds  his  teeth. 

"  Another  ?  "  gasp  I.    ''  I  forbid  you  to  continue  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  cries.  "  Why  not  ?  Didn't  your 
eyes  tell  me  your  hideous  secret  last  night  at  Delmon- 
ico's  when  you  looked  at  the  swell?  Harry  Sturgis 
Larchmont,  that's  his  name  !  What  chance  have  we 
workingmen  against  these  gentlemen  of  fashion  ?  But, 
frivolous  girl,  1  warn  you  of  him  !  With  my  last  word, 
I,  Alfred  Tompkins,  warn  you  I  " 

With  this  invective  he  departs. 

I  pray  God  he  will  be  happy.  True  hearts  are  scarce 
in  this  world,  and  though  Alfred  Tompkins'  love  for  me 
is  perhaps  not  of  the  most  exalted  type,  still  he  has 
given  me  the  whole  of  it. 

Then  Sally  comes  out  to  me  and  whispers :  "  You 
have  sent  him  away  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  " 

'*  I  knew  you  would,  ever  since  you  looked,  last  even- 
ing, at  the  swell  in  Delmonico's.  Why,  what  awful 
blushes  !  but  they're  very  becoming,  Louise." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  I  cry.  "  Don't  dare  to  speak  such  in- 
effable idiocy.     No  more  of  Mr.  Tompkins  !  " 

''No  more  of  Mr.  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont?" 

"  No  more  of  anyone  !  "  and  I  turn  from  the  subject, 
though  Sally  brings  it  back  to  me  several  times  upon 
this  last  evening  we  spend  together.  The  last  night  of 
our  friendship  !  If  I  come  back,  I  will  be  changed,  and 
she —     Any  way  it  will  be  different  ! 

But  at  present  we  are  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and 
mingle  our  farewells  with  tears  and  caresses,  and  promises 
to  never  forget  each  other. 

So  the  morning  comes  to  us,  and  my  trunk  is  taken 
away  by  the  expressman,  and  Sally  and  I  go  down  to  the 
great  steamship,  at  its  dock  in  the  North  River.  1  pre- 
sent my  letter  of  introduction  to  the  captain,  and  find 
that  I  have  a  very  pleasant  stateroom.,  all  to  myself. 
Here  Sally  and  I  bid  each  other  farewell.  A  moment 
after,  I  give  a  start. 

Alfred   Tompkins  is   standing   before  me.     He  says, 


KARON    MONTEZ.  I05 

heedless  of  Sally's  presence :  "  Whether  you  change 
your  mind  or  not,  I  have  come  down  to  bid  you  good- 
by  !  " 

And  I  whisper  to  him  :  "  I  can't  change  my  mind  ! 
You  will  forget  me  in  time." 

Then  the  cry  comes  up  of  "  All  ashore  !  " — the  cry 
that  is  separating  me  from  the  land  of  my  birth.  And 
Sally  and  Mr.  Tompkins  have  gone  across  the  gang- 
plank to  wave  adieu  to  me  as  the  steamer  leaves  its 
dock. 

Other  farewells  are  being  said.  Husbands  are  parting 
from  wives,  and  sisters  from  brothers,  and  a  lot  of  fash- 
ionables are  waving  farewell  to  some  gentleman  comrade. 
Carelessly  I  turn  to  look  at  him. 

I  give  a  gasp  of  astonishment.  What  does  it  mean  to 
my  life  ?  The  man  waving  an  adieu  to  his  friends,  and 
standing  carelessly  on  the  bulwarks  of  the  ship — the 
man  sailing  away  with  me  to  Panama — is  Harry  Sturgis 
Larch  mont 

Sally  and  Tompkins  have  seen  and  recognized  him  too. 
I  see  it  by  the  look  of  amazed  alarm  upon  their  faces. 
Good  heavens,  if  they  think  it  an  elopement  I  I  give  a 
start  of  horror,  and  fly  to  my  stateroom  dismayed  and 
overcome  at  emotions  that  give  me  curious  joy  and 
bashful  fear. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

AN    EXILE    FROM    THE    FOUR    HUNDRED. 

For  two  days,  on  the  plea  of  seasickness,  a  vague 
bashfulness  keeps  this  young  lady  in  retirement,  in  spite 
of  kind  messages  from  the  captain,  brought  by  the  stew- 
ardess, suggesting  it  will  be  well  for  her  to  get  her  "  sea 
legs "  in  working  condition,  and  that  his  table  looks 
lonely  at  dinner-time  ;  for  the  skipper,  being  an  admirer 
of  lovely  women,  has  given  her  this  post  of  honor,  some- 
what to  the  young  lady's  astonishment. 

Not  being  seasick — for  the  weather  is  by  no  means 
tempestuous — she  has  devoted  herself  to  writing  up  her 
diary,  which  has  fallen  behindhand  in  the  two  or  three 
days  previous  to  her  departure  from  New  York. 


Io6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  the  stewardess,  open- 
ing Louise's  stateroom  door,  with  that  young  lady's  cof- 
fee in  her  hands,  says,  in  her  good-hearted  darky  way  : 
"  Miss  Minturn,  Cap'en's  compliments,  an'  hopes  to  see 
yo'  at  breakfus'." 

Then  getting  no  answer  to  this  but  a  piquant  yawn, 
for  the  young  lady  is  sleepy,  she  runs  on  in  her  patois : 
"  'Deed  it  'ud  be  a  pow'ful  shame  if  yo'  don'  go,  honey. 
De  vessel  ain't  rockin'  mo'  dan  a  baby's  cradle.  Dis  am 
reg'Iar  Bahama  wedder." 

"  Can  I  wear  a  light  dress  ?  "  the  girl  asks  suddenly 
and  rather  anxiously,  reflecting,  in  a  sleepy  way,  that  her 
new  summer  gowns  are  her  strongest  points  in  wardrobe  ; 
and  desirous,  like  other  Eves,  to  make  a  good  appear- 
ance on  her  first  entry  into  the  dining  salon. 

"•  Laws  !  Yo'  could  wear  angel's  wings,  yo'  could, 
to-day,  an'  be  comfo'table  !  "  returns  the  stewardess. 

"  Oh  !  "  cries  Louise,  laughing.  "  I  have  no  wish  for 
a  celestial  toilette.  Nun's  veiling  will  make  me  near 
enough  to  the  angels  at  present." 

Soon  after,  stepping  upon  the  deck,  a  vision  of  sum- 
mer loveliness,  she  feels  sorry  that  she  has  confined  her- 
self to  her  stateroom  so  long.  The  vessel  is  ploughing 
her  way  through  a  sea  that  is  strangely  blue,  and  quiet 
as  the  waters  of  an  inland  lake,  save  for  its  long  ocean 
swell.  The  sky  above  her  is  also  azure,  and  the  glorious 
sun  makes  the  bracing  sea  breezes  a  little  languid,  as 
they  toss  the  girl's  hair  about,  and  give  undulation  to 
skirts  and  draperies  that  outline  as  pretty  a  figure  as  ever 
stood  upon  a  ship's  deck.  She  draws  in  the  salt  air, 
which  is  just  strong  enough  to  give  buoyancy  to  her  step 
and  roses  to  her  cheeks,  and  is  happy  that  she  has  lett 
New  York  with  its  March  winds  behind  her,  and  sailed 
into  a  sunny  sea. 

Everything  is  tropical. 

She  looks  about,  an  indefinite  bashfulness  in  her 
radiant  eyes,  as  if  she  hoped,  yet  almost  feared,  to  see 
someone,  and  notices  the  passengers  are  nearly  all  in  the 
toilettes  of  midsummer:  the  gentlemen  mostly  sporting 
white  linen  suits  or  flannels  ;  the  ladies  in  li.{;ht  yachting 
costumes,  with  dainty  sailor  hats,  or  other  delicate  dresses 
suggestive  of  the  tropics. 

The    gong   is   sounding  for  breakfast.     Miss  Louise, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I07 

with  a  little  disappointed  pout  upon  her  lips,  for  some- 
how she  has  not  seen  what  she  has  been  looking  for,  is 
about  to  go  a  little  diffidently  into  the  dining  salon.  But 
at  the  companion-way  a  cheery  voice  greets  her.  The 
captain  is  at  her  side,  saying  pleasantly — for  this  old  sea- 
dog  has  a  quick  eye  for  pretty  girls — "  I  hope  you  have 
got  a  salt-water  appetite,  Miss  Minturn.  Delighted  to 
see  you  on  deck.  I  was  afraid  you  might  make  the 
voyage  '  between  blankets.' " 

''  In  such  beautiful  weather  that  would  have  been 
horrible,"  replies  the  young  lady. 

"  If  you  had  not  come  out  to-day,  I  was  going  to  send 
our  saw-bones  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  you," 
returns  the  captain. 

*'  Oh  !  "  says  the  young  lady,  withdrawing  her  hand 
from  his  vigorous  and  hearty  grasp,  for  the  skipper  has 
been  giving  its  taper  fingers  a  cordial  squeeze,  "  I  never 
take  doctor's  prescriptions." 

"  Neither  do  I  !  "  laughs  the  seaman  ;  "so  come  down 
and  take  some  of  our  cook's." 

A  moment  after,  they  are  at  the  breakfast  table,  the 
waiter  placing  a  chair  for  Miss  Louise  at  the  left  hand  of 
the  captain,  as  the  latter  introduces  his  pretty  charge  to 
the  people  immediately  about  him.  During  these  pre- 
sentations, the  young  lady  discovers  that  the  chair  at  the 
captain's  right  is  occupied  by  the  wife  of  a  French 
engineer  connected  with  the  Panama  Canal  Company. 
She  is  going  to  join  her  husband  on  the  Isthmus,  and  is 
very  petite,  rather  timid  in  her  manner,  and  delighted 
when  she  learns  that  her  new  acquaintance  speaks 
French. 

Immediately  beyond  this  lady  is  an  American,  Colonel 
Clengham  Cleggett  by  name.  He  is  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  the  American  Commission  for  the  Panama 
Canal,  and  is  at  present  enthusiastically  praising  the 
French  management  of  that  gigantic  enterprise,  probably 
because  he  receives  therefrom  a  handsome  salary.  A  lit- 
tle farther  down  the  table  is  a  very  pretty  American  girl 
going  by  way  of  the  Isthmus  to  meet  htr  fiance',  who  is 
an  orange  farmer  in  Los  Angeles,  California,  where  she 
is  to  be  married  to  him.  Her  name  at  present  is  Miss 
Madeline  Stockwell. 

These  things  come  to  Miss  Minturn  in  a  dreamy  man- 


lo8  BARON    MONTEZ. 

ner.  With  change  of  latitude,  the  atmosphere  seems  to 
have  changed  also.  Though  the  flag  of  the  United  States 
floats  over  her,  she  is  apparently  no  longer  in  America. 

Everything  about  her  is  so  foreign ! 

The  conversation  at  the  next  table,  coming  from 
several  young  Central  Americans  returning  to  their  coffee 
plantations,  is  Spanish.  The  balance  is  almost  entirely 
French.  There  is  but  one  subject  of  remark — the 
Panama  Canal.  For  nearly  all  of  the  passengers  are 
connected  with  it,  and  get  their  bread  and  butter  out 
of  it,  being  employees  of  the  Canal  Company,  of  the 
various  contracting  firms  engaged  in  constructing  it, 
returning  from  leave  of  absence  to  their  duties  on  the 
Isthmus. 

The  only  exceptions  to  this,  besides  those  mentioned, 
are  a  couple  of  English  Chilians  bound  for  Valparaiso, 
and  a  representative  of  Grace  &  Company,  going  to 
Lima.  Therefore  the  name  of  le  grand  Fraufais,  Fer- 
dinand de  Lesseps,  and  his  colossal  enterprise,  is  on 
everybody's  lips. 

But  even  as  these  things  come  to  her,  the  young  lady's 
pretty  hazel  eyes  are  looking  diffidently,  yet  anxiously, 
about  her.  She  is  wondering  where  Mr.  Larchmont  sits 
in  the  dining  salon.  She  rather  hopes  it  is  far  from  her; 
next  suddenly  wishes  the  reverse.  Even  as  this  thought 
is  in  her  mind,  a  great  blush  comes  over  her  beautiful 
face,  she  turns  her  head  away  for  a  moment,  confused, 
for  Harry  Larchmont,  coming  down  in  summer  flannels, 
takes  the  vacant  seat  next  to  her.  Looking  at  the 
beauty  beside  him,  he  gives  a  start  of  surprised  pleasure, 
and  ejaculates  :  "  I  was  afraid  you  were  overboard!  " 

The  captain  says  :  "  Harry"  (for  this  young  man's  easy- 
going way  has  made  him  familiar  with  nearly  everybody 
on  shipboard),  "  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Minturn. 
She  is  the  derelict  of  the  ship.  You  should  know  her. 
She  is  one  of  your  set  in  New  York." 

To  this  peculiar  information,  Mr.  Larchmont  says  with 
the  instinctive  good  breeding  of  a  man  of  the  world  : 
'•  Yes,  I  know  Miss  Minturn  very  well,  I  am  happy  to 
say." 

"Of  course  you  do!"  laughs  the  captain.  "She 
danced  at  the  Patriarchs'  ball  with  you  the  other 
evening." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  IO9 

"  No,  you  are  referring  to  my  first  cousin,  Miss  Fanny 
Minturn,"  ejaculates  Miss  Louise,  suddenly  finding  her 
tongue,  and  not  wishing  to  sail  under  false  colors. 

"  Miss  Fanny  Minturn  is  your  cousin  ?"  says  Mr.  Larch- 
mont,  a  look  of  surprise  passing  over  his  face,  for  which 
the  young  lady  does  not  bless  him,  for  into  her  quick 
mind  has  flown  this  thought :  "  Why  should  this  gentle- 
man be  astonished  at  Miss  Minturn  of  Fifth  Avenue 
being  the  cousin  of  Miss  Minturn  the  stenographer  ? " 
As  she  thinks  this,  chagrin  makes  her  its  prey.  She 
imagines  the  captain's  politeness  and  seat  at  his  table 
came  because  he  had  supposed  her  one  of  the  elect  of 
New  York.  Fortunately  for  her  peace  of  mind,  she  soon 
discovers  that  she  does  this  jovial,  good-hearted  sea- 
dog  injustice,  as  he  don't  care  anything  for  Fifth  Avenue. 
All  he  cares  for  is  pretty  girls  ;  and  Miss  Minturn's  face 
and  figure  having  pleased  him,  he  has  given  her  a  seat  at 
his  table,  and  will  favor  her  with  personal  attentions  dur- 
ing the  voyage,  that  he  would  hardly  give  to  an  ugly 
countess. 

As  the  look  of  annoyance  leaves  her  face,  the  conver- 
sation becomes  more  general,  though  ever  and  anon, 
during  its  commonplaces,  the  pretty  young  lady  seated 
at  Harry  Larchmont's  side,  catches  his  eyes  upon  her, 
and  she  interprets  their  glances  to  say  :  "  What  the 
dickens  brings  you  here  ?  " 

Perhaps  her  piquant  face  asks  the  same  question,  for 
after  a  little  he  suggests :  "  This  meeting  is  unexpected 
to  you.  Miss  Minturn  ;  you  now  discover  what  I  meant 
by  au  7'evoir  at  Delmonico's." 

*'  Why — I — I  had  supposed  you  were  bound  for  Paris," 
says  Louise. 

"  No.  My  brother  goes  to  France  with  Miss  Severn 
and  Mrs.  Dewitt,"  answers  Larchmont,  looking  serious. 

"Then  you  are  en  route  California,  I  imagine  ?"  asks 
the  girl  a  little  anxiously. 

"  Only  as  far  as  the  Isthmus."  The  young  gentleman 
does  not  look  very  happy  as  he  says  this,  and  astonished 
meditation  comes  over  the  young  lady.  This  bird  of 
fashion  might  run  away  from  winter  in  New  York  to  the 
orange  groves  of  California,  or  to  gay  St.  Augustine,  or 
the  Riviera,  or  even  Egypt  ;  but  why  should  Harry  Larch- 
mont make  a  pilgrimage  to  Colon  and  Panama,  with  their 


no  BARON    MONTEZ. 

swamps,  miasmas,  and  yellow  fever  ?  She  is  sure  of  one 
thing — that  it  is  not  for  pleasure.  She  recollects  that  he 
sighed  when  he  said,  at  Delmonico's,  it  might  be  the  last 
time  he  would  lead  the  cotillon. 

He  affords  no  solution  to  the  problem,  though  he 
gives  the  young  lady  several  pretty  commonplaces,  and 
the  conversation  at  the  table  runs  along  in  a  desultory 
way  ;  but  it  is  a  conversation  that  delights  the  girl  who 
is  listening  to  it.  She  perceives  the  narrow  limits  of  Miss 
Work's  typewriting  room  have  opened,  and  let  her  pass 
out  into  the  world  of  finance,  of  politics,  of  diplomacy — 
the  little  world  that  dominates  the  greater  one.  As  she 
thinks  this,  the  girl's  eyes  grow  bright  with  excitement 
at  the  new  life  that  is  coming  to  her. 

Across  the  table  from  her  a  discussion  is  taking  place 
as  to  whether  the  United  States  will  interfere  in  case  the 
rights  of  the  few  remaining  American  stockholders  of 
the  Panama  Railroad  are  ignored  by  the  Panama  Canal 
Company  that  has  purchased  it.  Colonel  Clenghorn 
Cleggett  is  apparently  the  most  bitter  Gaul  in  the  discus- 
sion, and  is  verbally  trampling  on  his  own  countrymen 
with  savage  vehemence. 

"  Rather  an  un-American  chap,"  remarks  Mr.  Larch- 
mont  sotto  voce  to  Miss  Minturn.  "  According  to  his  own 
stories,  Cleggett  was  a  Congressman,  and  yelled  Monroe 
doctrine  until  he  received  a  French  appointment." 

"  Then  he  is  a  mercenary  traitor,"  says  the  young  lady, 
with,  the  quick  decision  of  youth  and  wom.anhood,  in  a 
whisper  that  brings  her  pretty  lips  very  close  to  Mr. 
Harry's  ear,  for  their  seats  at  table  permit  easy  confidence. 

A  moment  after,  she  suddenly  goes  on,  "  How  much 
you  know  about  the  Canal  !  " 

''  I've  been  making  a  quiet  study  of  it  lately,"  answers 
the  young  man,  and  rather  gloomily  attacks  his  breakfast. 

Then  silence  comes  over  Mr.  Larchmont.  Having 
come  in  late  to  breakfast  he  is  apparently  making  up  for 
lost  time,  so  the  young  lady  could  keep  her  ears  open 
and  her  mouth  shut,  did  not  the  captain's  occasional 
attentions  compel  reply. 

He  insists  on  her  tasting  the  various  dishes  he  recom- 
mends ;  and  knowing  the  strong  points  of  his  cook,  she 
discovers  she  has  fared  very  well  by  the  time  the  skipper 
rises  to  leave  the  table.     The  young  man  beside  her  is 


BARON    MONTEZ.  Ill 

just  finishing  the  last  of  his  coffee  hurriedly,  and  is  appar- 
ently about  to  address  her,  when  the  captain,  offering  a 
gallant  arm,  says  :  "  Let  me  show  you  my  ship.  Miss 
Minturn  ;"  and  with  that  seizes  upon  Miss  Beauty,  and 
takes  her  up  the  companionway,  to  instruct  her  in  various 
nautical  matters. 

After  a  few  minutes,  the  captain's  attention  is  demand- 
^ed  by  his  first  officer,  and  Harry  chancing  to  saunter  out 
from  the  smoking-room,  the  seaman  turns  his  charge  over 
to  him,  saying :  "  My  boy,  complete  my  instructions. 
Miss  Louise  now  knows  the  difference  between  a  top- 
mast and  the  smokestack." 

Then  going  away  to  his  duty,  he  leaves  the  two  facing 
each  other. 

The  gentleman  looks  pleased  and  eager.  The  lady's 
eyes  turn  to  the  water,  as  it  flows  past,  a  slight  blush 
on  her  fair  cheeks,  a  little  confusion  in  her  eyes.  She 
is  thinking  of  the  blizzard  and — the  violets. 

Mr.  Larchmont  says  laughingly  :  "  Miss  Minturn,  since 
you  have  been  under  the  captain's  instructions,  will  you 
please  educate  me  ?  " 

So  they  shortly  find  themselves  seated  in  two  steamer 
chairs  which  the  young  gentleman,  for  some  occult  reason, 
has  placed  very  close  to  each  other. 

"  What  a  languid  sea  breeze!  "  murmurs  the  girl,  mak- 
ing an  alluring  picture  of  laziness  as  she  dallies  with  her 
white  parasol. 

''  Not  as  languid  as  the  blizzard,"  laughs  Harry. 

Whereupon  the  young  lady  turns  on  him  grateful  eyes, 
and  whispers  :  "You  were  very  kind  tome  !  "  then  looks 
over  the  water. 

''  Ah  !  you  like  me  in  the  role  of  rescuer  ? "  returns 
the  gentleman,  suggestion  in  his  voice. 

"On  shore,  perhaps  ;  but  here  your  remark  indicates 
collision,  hurricane,  shipwreck,  and  *  Man  the  life- 
boats! ' "  replies  Louise,  growing  a  little  pale  at  her  own 
imagery.  Then  she  suddenly  ejaculates,  "  What  a  pretty 
little  ship  !  " 

"  By  Jove  !  "  cries  Larchmont,  hastily  producing  his 
field-glasses,  and  inspecting  the  pennants  of  an  exqui- 
site schooner  that  is  just  abreast  of  them,  with  every 
white  sail  set  to  the  southern  breeze. 

*'  Why,  she  looks  like  a  toy  compared  to  our  steamer  I" 


1  12  BARON    MONTEZ. 

remarks  the  young  lady  ;  and  noting  the  gentleman  in- 
specting her  signals,  continues  :  "  You  appear  to  know 
the  boat." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  Independent^  Lloyd  Pollock's  schooner 
yacht,"  answers  Harry.  "  Pollock  is  bound  for  the  West 
Indies,  for  a  winter  cruise.  He  is  one  of  the  most  charm- 
ing 'do-nothings  '  in  the  world.  He  spends  his  life  seek- 
ing summer."  Then  he  sighs,  "Two  months  ago  I  was 
a  '  do-nothing '  also."  This  last  remark  is  perhaps  pro- 
duced by  the  sight  of  the  steward  serving  cocktails  on 
the  yacht's  deck. 

*-'  Well,  why  not  join  him  ?  "  suggests  Louise.  "  Mr. 
Pollock  is  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  an  intimate." 

"  Then  hail  him.  He  is  hardly  too  distant,  even  now. 
Ask  him  to  take  you  on  board,"  continues  the  girl,  who 
is  a  little  piqued  at  her  companion's  sigh.  "  Your  trip 
to  the  Isthmus  does  not  please  you." 

"  I  am  better  pleased  to  be  here  than  on  board  any 
yacht  in  the  world,"  answers  young  Larchmont  stoutly; 
and  looking  upon  his  companion  concludes  that  he  has 
spoken  the  truth.  Then  a  new  idea  seems  to  come  into 
his  mind,  for  he  goes  on  suddenly  :  "  You  are  journey- 
ing to  California,  Miss  Minturn  ?  " 

"  No,"  says  the  girl,  "  what  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 
and  turns  wondering  eyes  on  him. 

"  Why,"  he  answers,  a  little  hesitation  in  his  manner, 
"  I  had  heard  a  young  lady  on  board  was  en  route  to  Cal- 
ifornia to  be  married.  When  I  saw  you  at  the  captain's 
table  alone,  and  in  his  charge,  I  presumed  you  were  the 
fiancee  y 

"  I  am  notgoxxig  to  California,  and  I  am  not  going  to  be 
married  !  "  utters  Louise  decidedly.  "  That  young  lady  " 
— she  indicates  by  her  parasol  Miss  Madeline  Stockwell, 
who  is  seated  by  the  side  of  a  young  Costa  Rican — "  is 
the  coming  bride."  Smiles  are  upon  her  fair  face,  for 
she  is  glad  to  find  Harry  Larchmont  has  been  speculat- 
ing upon  her.  She  laughs,  "  Could  you  not  tell  it  t  I 
thought  brides  could  always  be  guessed." 

To  this  the  young  man  replies  :  "  If  brides  could  be 
guessed  by  tremendous  flirtations,  I  should  have  selected 
Miss  Madeline  Stockwell.  How  do  you  think  \itx  fianc^ 
would   enjoy  looking  on  that?"  and  he  points   to   the 


BARON    MONTEZ.  II3 

Costa  Rican,  who  is  stroking  his  moustaches  with  one 
white  hand,  and  with  the  other  devotedly  fanning  the 
pretty  Madeline,  as  she  sits  languidly  on  her  campstool, 
a  picture  of  contented  ease,  apparently  having  forgotten 
the  orange  grower. 

Then  the  two  become  merry,  for  somehow  Mr.  Larch- 
mont's  face,  when  Miss  Louise  had  announced  to  him 
she  is  not  the  coming  bride,  has  given  that  young  lady 
good  spirits.  So  they  go  to  joking  with  each  other, 
and  have  quite  a  merry  time  of  it,  until  Harry  brings 
catastrophe  upon  their  tete'-a-tct^. 

He  says  incidentally  :  "  By  the  by.  Miss  Minturn,  you 
remember  that  gentleman  who  was  with  you  at  Del- 
monico's  the  other  evening  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  she  "replies  carelessly.  "  Mr.  Alfred 
Tompkins  ;  he  came  down  to  bid  me  good-by." 

"  Then  it  was  he  !  "  ejaculates  Harry,  a  peculiar  look 
coming  into  his  face.     "  He  is  a  very  curious  man." 

"  Indeed  !     Why  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  ran  to  the  end  of  the  dock  just  as  we  cast 
loose,  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  ship,  and  called  out,  '  You 
infernal  scoundrel  !  '  For  a  moment  I  wondered  if  he 
was  not  anathematizing  me  ;  but  a  French  gentleman 
standing  beside  me  took  it  to  himself,  and  crushed  your 
friend  with  a  volley  of  Gallic  invective.  Consequently, 
I  know  he  did  not  refer  to  me." 

There  is  meditation,  yet  questioning,  in  his  voice  ; 
perhaps  there  is  a  little  roguery  in  his  glance  ;  for  the 
young  lady  has  turned  suddenly  away,  and  a  big  blush 
has  come  upon  her.  She  knows  the  reason  of  Mr.  Tomp- 
kins' violence,  and  in  her  heart  of  hearts  is  gasping  : 
"  Good  heavens  !  he  thought  I  was  eloping  with — if 
Harry  Larchmont  should  ever  guess  !  " 

A  moment  later,  the  gentleman  startles  Miss  Louise 
again.  He  says  :  "  You  are  not  a  good  sailor,  I  am 
sorry  to  see." 

"  Why  ?  " 

*'  Because  every  little  lurch  of  the  vessel  seems  to  make 
you  wish  to  look  over  the  taffrail.  Besides,  you  were  sea- 
sick in  your  cabin  for  three  days." 

"  No,  I  was  not  !  "  replies  the  girl  indignantly.  "  I — 
I  had  some  writing  to  do." 

"  Ah,  then  you  are  a  good  sailor.     You  like  yachting. 


114  BARON    MONTEZ. 

of  course  ?  "  This  is  said  as  if  everj'body  yachted  ;  and 
Louise  bites  her  Hp,  and  hates  him  for  making  her  con- 
fess ignorance  of  that  fashionable  amusement.  Then 
great  joy  comes  to  her.  She  remembers  the  catboat 
Tompkins  hired  in  summer,  and  called  a  yacht.  She 
had  been  on  it  oricedX  Sheepshead  Bay,  with  Sally  Brough- 
ton,  and  putting  her  soul  in  her  words,  she  answers 
sweetly  :  "  I  adore  yachting  !  " 

Then  she  grows  very  angry  again,  for  he  has  glanced 
at  her  surprised. 

A  moment  after,  he  goes  on,  unheeding  indignant 
looks  :  "If  you  adore  yachting,  and  I  love  yachting, 
suppose  we  imagine  this  ship  a  yacht  :  we  have  yachting 
weather." 

"  What  difference,"  says  Miss  Minturn  petulantly, 
"  does  it  make  whether  we  consider  we  are  on  a  steamer 
or  a  yacht  ?  " 

"  Only  that  on  yachts  people  get  better  acquainted  with 
each  other.  There  is  something  in  the  very  deck  of  a 
yacht  that  makes  people  feel  dpris.'' 

"  We  will  consider  this  a  steamer^''  mutters  the  girl 
piquantly  yet  sternly. 

Her  glance  disconcerts  the  young  man  ;  but  he  says  : 
"You  plav,  I  know." 

"Passably." 

"  On  the  piano  ?  " 

"  Yes,  on  the  piano,  the  guitar,  banjo,  and  harp.  My 
mother  was  a  music  teacher." 

"  The  guitar — you  have  one  with  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  in  my  stateroom." 

"  Then  we  will  have  musical  nights  on  deck  ;  dancing 
waves — romantic  moonlight — the " 

Harry's  eyes  are  speaking  as  well  as  his  lips,  when  Miss 
Minturn  cuts  him  short  with,  "  My  evenings  are  devoted 
to  v/riting." 

"  Oh,  letters  for  home  ? " 

"  No,  my  diary."  As  this  slips  between  the  young 
lady's  pretty  lips,  she  clinches  her  teeth  together,  as  if 
trying  to  cut  it  off,  and  grows  very  red,  for  he  is  whisper- 
ing :  "  A  diary  !  a  young  lady's  diary  !  I  am  devoted  to 
such  literature.     Give  me  a  peep  at  yours  ?" 

"  Oh,  gracious  I "  ejaculates  the  girl,  for  sudden 
thought  has  come  to  her  :  "  If  he  should  see  it  with  his 


BARON    MONTEZ.  II5 

name  on  every  other  page  !  "  Very  red,  but  desperately 
calm,  she  goes  on  :  "  That  diary  is  under  lock  and  key, 
and  shall  remain  there.     No  one  will  ever  see  it." 

"  Not  even  your  husband — when  you  marry  ?  "  suggests 
the  gentleman. 

"  He  less  than  anyone  !  " 

"  Of  course  not  !  The  diary  would  be  very  sad  read- 
ing for  the  future  husband,"  answers  Harry,  putting 
pathos  in  his  voice.  Then  he  says  consideringly  :  "  I 
am  glad,  however,  it  is  a  diary.  Diaries  can  be  left 
till  to-morrow.  I  was  afraid  it  was  some  of  that  awful 
stenographic  work  ;  that  I  might  hear  the  click  of  the 
typewriter  in  your  stateroom." 

"Typewriters,"  cries  Louise,  "are  for  the  Isthmus." 

"  For  the  Isthmus  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Don't  you  suppose  there  is  any  business  done 
on  the  Isthmus  ?  "  answers  Miss  Minturn,  with  savage 
voice  ;  thoughts  of  typewriters  do  not  charm  her  soul 
this  pleasant  morning.  "  Is  the  Panama  Canal  all  talk 
and  no  work  ? " 

Now  this  latter  announcement  seems  to  have  a  very 
potent  effect  on  the  gentleman  with  her.  He  mutters  : 
''  I  am  afraid  so."  Then  continues  :  "  I  am  going  to  the 
Isthmus  myself,  on  business — business  on  which " 

Here  Louise  eagerly  interjects,  delight  in  her  voice  : 
"  So  am  I  !  I  am  going  out  to  be  the  stenographic  cor- 
respondent of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie." 

At  these  words  Harry  Larchmont  starts,  looks  at  his 
companion  with  sudden  scrutiny,  perhaps  even  suspicion. 
A  moment  after,  apparently  changing  the  tone  of  his 
speech,  he  says,  with  an  attempt  at  a  laugh  :  "  So  am  I." 

''What !     Stenographer  for  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.?" 

"  No,  not  exactly  that,  but  I  am  going  to  be  a  clerk 
also." 

"You  a  clerk?  You,  who  have  led  cotillons?  You, 
who  are  one  of  the  lazy  birds  of  the  world  ?"  gasps  the 
girl,  astounded. 

"  That  is  a  thing  of  the  past,  now,"  he  says  contempla- 
tively. "  You  see,"  here  a  sudden  idea  flies  into  this 
gentleman's  mind,  and  he  becomes  apparently  confidential, 
"  when  a  man  in  the  class  I  have  been  running  with  dis- 
covers, to  put  it  pointedly,  that  he  is  '  dead  broke ' " 

"  Dead  broke  ?  " 


Il6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  That's  what  I  said.  He  finds  very  few  avenues  of 
employment  open  to  him  that  are  sufficiently  lazy  to  suit 
his  disposition." 

He  makes  the  last  pictorial,  by  reclining  very  languidly 
on  his  steamer  chair,  and  murmurs,  ^'  You  look  happy  at 
my  news." 

"Happy? — I — "  stammers  the  girl.  "Of  course 
not ! "  But  her  eyes  belie  her  words,  for  there  has 
flown  into  her  soul  a  rapturous  thought :  "  This  man  and 
I  are  now  equal  in  this  world's  goods."  After  a  moment 
she  goes  on  suggestively  : 

"Why,  you  might  go  on  the  stage,  with  your  voice 
and  figure." 

"  Thanks  for  your  compliment  !  "  he  laughs.  Then, 
growing  serious,  says  :  "  On  the  stage  !  Every  dramatic 
jackal  of  the  press  would  have  run  me  down  in  their 
columns  as  coyotes  do  a  buffalo  that  has  left  his  herd. 
Besides,  do  you  think  a  man  becomes  an  actor  without 
study  ?     And  I  have  never  studied  anything." 

"  Why,  you  must  have  studied  something — football  for 
instance ! "  laughs  Louise.  Then  she  says,  her  eyes 
growing  large  with  admiration  :  "  I  saw  your  wonderful 
game  four  years  ago." 

"  Yes,"  he  replies,  "  I  am  an  athlete,  but  not  a  prize 
fighter  ;  prize  fighting  leads  to  the  stage,  not  general 
athletics.  Consequently,"  he  goes  on,  as  if  anxious  to 
stop  discussion  on  this  point,  "  1  applied  to  my  uncle, 
Mr.  Delafield,  who  has  some  influence  in  business  circles, 
and  he  has  obtained  for  me  a  clerkship  in  the  Pacific 
Mail  Steamship  Company's  office  at  Panama.  I  think  it 
will  suit  me.  They  only  have  three  steamers  a  month  ; 
between  times  I  can  lie  in  a  hammock,  smoke  cigarettes, 
eat  oranges,  and  suck  mangoes." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would  suit  you,"  says  the  girl  mock- 
ingly ;  and  looking  at  him,  acquiesces  with  him,  but  does 
not  believe  him.  His  speech  seems  to  her  not  genuine. 
Up  to  the  time  she  had  told  him  she  was  the  correspond- 
ent for  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  his  conversation  had 
been  frank  and  ingenuous  ;  from  that  time  on,  it  has 
appeared  to  be   forced. 

A  moment  later  the  captain  breaks  in  on  her  medita- 
tion, saying  :  "  Harry,  I  think  we'll  have  to  change  watch 
now.     It's  my  turn  below." 


BAROX    MONTEZ.  II7 

And  Mr.  Larchmont,  to  whom  this  conversation  has 
grown  embarrassing,  for  he  is  not  a  young  man  to  use 
ambiguities  easily,  and  tell  white  lies  with  the  straightest 
of  faces,  but  who  feels  it  necessary  to  disguise  the  reason 
of  his  visit  to  the  Isthmus  to  any  one  connected  with 
Baron  Fernando  Montez,  yields  up  his  seat,  and  strolls 
off  to  meditate  over  a  cigar. 

Then  the  captain  attempts  to  make  play  with  the 
beauty  of  the  ship,  but  finding  her  unresponsive  to  his 
nautical  wit  and  humor,  suggests  lunch  ;  for  she  is  think- 
ing, "  If  it  is  true  ?  If  he  is  a  clerk — there  is  no  gulf — 
Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont  and  I  are  equal  before  the 
world  !  "  And  it  is  joy  to  her,  for  this  girl  loves  the 
man,  not  his  reputed  wealth  or  social  position. 

So  the  day  runs  on,  and  Louise  gets  to  watching  this 
young  man  who  has  been  so  much  in  her  thoughts,  and 
what  she  notices  makes  her  wonder  still  more 

There  is  a  certain  Carl  Wernig,  a  gentleman  who 
the  captain  tells  her  is  of  prodigious  wealth  and  great 
influence  in  the  Panama  Canal  Company.  This  person 
seems  to  be  interested  in  the  movements  of  Mr.  Larch- 
mont. The  two  having  picked  up  a  hurricane  deck 
acquaintance,  Miss  Minturn  hears  him  mention  to 
Mr.  Larchmont  that  he  knows  his  brother  Frangois  in 
Paris. 

**  I  call  him  Frank,"  says  the  New  Yorker  rather 
curtly.  *'An  American  name  is  good  enough  for  me, 
though  I  believe  my  brother  has  Frenchified  his  since  he 
has  been  promenading  the  boulevards." 

But  nothing  seems  to  check  this  German  in  his  interest 
in  Mr.  Larchmont.  He  joins  him,  at  every  oppor- 
tunity, on  deck,  laughingly  questions  him  as  to  his  trip 
on  the  Isthmus,  as  if  anxious  to  know  what  he  intends 
doing  there.  To  these  Herr  Wernig  receives  the  short 
answer  that  Harry  is  "busted,"  and  is  going  out  as  a 
clerk  to  Panama. 

The  next  morning.  Miss  Louise,  who  has  spent  some 
part  of  her  night  meditating  upon  the  gentleman  of  her 
tlioughts,  gets  a  surprise  when  she  comes  on  deck  and 
stands  by  the  captain's  side,  looking  at  the  Island  of 
Salvador, 'with  its  white  light-house. 

The  skipper  says  suddenly  :  "  By  Jove  !  " 

"Why   do   you  make   such   extraordinary  remarks?" 


Il8  BARON    MONTEZ. 

asks  the  young  lady,  a  little  startled  at  the  bluntness  of 
the  seaman's  exclamation. 

"  Why,  look  at  that  young  springall,  Harry  Larch- 
mont,  sauntering  along  the  deck  as  unconcernedly  as  if  it 
were  an  every-day  occurrence  ;  and  yet  1  understand 
Mr.  Cockatoo  lost  one  thousand  dollars  at  poker  last 
night !  Those  young  bloods  think  the  skipper  does  not 
know  what  is  going  on  in  this  ship,  but  the  skipper 
does." 

To  this  Louise  does  not  reply.  A  curious  problem  is 
in  her  mind.  She  is  wondering  how  a  man,  who  yester- 
day told  her  he  was  "  dead  broke,"  seems  not  even  to 
give  a  passing  thought  to  the  loss  at  cards  of  one  thou- 
sand dollars  that  will  be  '' hard-earned  dollars  "  to  him 
very  soon. 

As  she  goes  down  to  breakfast  she  thinks  :  "  Can  it 
be  the  carelessness  of  financial  despair,  or  is  it  from  force 
of  habit?" 

She  had  known  Larchmont  was  regarded  as  rich,  even 
in  New  York,  where  a  million  dollars  goes  not  over  far. 
Is  this  exile  from  the  Four  Hundred,  though  he  has  not 
gone  on  the  stage,  acting  some  part  ?  Does  he  wish  the 
real  object  of  his  journey  to  the  Isthmus  to  be  unsus- 
pected and  unknown  ? 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    WILD-GOOSE    CHASE. 

This  latter  idea,  circumstances  that  occur  later  in  the 
day  tend  to  confirm. 

Mr.  Larchmont,  after  having  eaten  a  hearty  and  com- 
fortable breakfast,  is  apparently  not  overburdened  in 
mind  by  last  night's  losses.  Leaving  the  companionship 
of  his  social  equals  in  the  salon^  he  for  some  curious 
reason  devotes  himself  to  the  second-cabin  passengers. 

The  privilege  given  him  by  his  ticket  permits  his 
wandering  all  over  the  boat,  and  he  avails  himself  of  it 
by  taking  a  long  promenade  in  that  portion  of  the  ship 
where  those  who  are  compelled  by  financial  considera- 
tions to  take  inferior  accommodations  make  their  exer- 
cise. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  II9 

His  absence  rather  astonishes  Miss  Louise,  who  is 
dawdling  out  a  tropical  forenoon,  seated  on  a  steamer 
chair,  under  stern  awnings,  and  surrounded  by  the  light 
conversation  of  people  talking  to  kill  a  nautical  day,  that 
is  made  up  of  three  supreme  events — breakfast,  lunch, 
and  dinner,  with  minor  intervals  between.  Not  greatly 
amused  by  the  conversation  of  some  of  the  young  gentle- 
men of  the  boat,  with  whom  she  appears  to  be  a  general 
favorite,  she  meditates,  and  reproach  comes  to  her.  She 
has  shut  herself  up  in  the  cabin  on  the  evening  before, 
and  has  not  enjoyed  the  moonlight,  as  Mr.  Larchmont 
had  suggested.  Perchance,  had  she  given  him  her  society, 
he  would  not  have  turned  to  poker  !  This  last  thought 
is  a  spasm  of  delight  too  charming  to  be  analyzed. 

As  she  languishes  amid  fan  and  parasol  and  sofa  cush- 
ions and  surrounding  gallants,  her  bright  eyes  suddenly 
become  animated  ;  to  her  astonishment  she  notes  that 
Mr.  Larchmont  is  interesting  himself  with  the  second- 
cabin  passengers.  He  is  taking  his  exercise  in  their 
company,  and  has  become  friendly  with  several  of  them. 

Apparently  he  does  not  love  them  well  enough  to  eat 
with  them,  for  he  returns  to  first  cabin  at  meal-times. 

This  is  in  Miss  Minturn's  mind,  as  the  young  gentle- 
man takes  seat  beside  her  at  the  lunch  table,  for  she 
remarks  caustically  :  "  Mr.  Larchmont,  you  do  not  seem 
to  enjoy  second-cabin  table  as  much  as  you  do  second- 
cabin  society." 

"  Oh,"  he  replies,  stifling  a  grin  :  "  there  are  some 
curious  characters  amidships  ;"  then,  after  a  little  reflec- 
tion, continues :  "  Besides,  I  am  training  myself  for 
associations  that  may  come  ultimately  to  a  poverty- 
stricken  individual."  This  assertion  is  made  with  a  laugh 
which  does  not  seem  to  be  genuine,  from  one  prognosti- 
cating a  fall  in  his  social  environment. 

But  lunch  over,  this  young  gentleman  is  again  at  his 
business  in  the  second  cabin.  He  seems  to  have  taken 
a  particular  fancy  for  a  short,  dried-up-looking  little 
man,  whose  dress  and  appearance  proclaim  the  French 
shopkeeper. 

In  the  afternoon,  a  refreshing  breeze  having  sprung 
up,  most  of  the  passengers  take  a  leisurely  promenade 
on  deck ;  and  Miss  Minturn  follows  the  fashion.  She 
has  some  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  ship  at  her  side,  among 


I20  BARON    M0NTE2. 

them  Herr  Wernig.  A  few  scraps  of  conversation,  that 
are  carried  by  the  breeze  to  them,  from  Mr.  Larchmont 
and  his  second-cabin  chum,  appear  to  be  in  French ; 
Harry  apparently  making  very  hard  work  of  the  GalHc 
vernacular. 

As  the  young  lady  only  has  ears  for  what  floats  to 
her  from  the  forward  part  of  the  ship,  her  inattention  is 
not  complimentary  to  the  gentlemen  about  her,  and  one 
by  one  they  drop  away  from  her,  until  she  finds  herself 
tete-a-tete  with  the  German  financier. 

This  gentleman's  large  bright  eyes — one  of  which  has 
a  cast — have  been  often  rolled  towards  her  since  she  has 
made  her  appearance  the  day  before  ;  for  he  has  a  quick 
optic  for  feminine  beauty,  and  the  young  lady's  exqui- 
site figure,  graceful  movements,  and  vivacious  counte- 
nance, have  affected  Herr  Wernig  in  a  manner  that  he 
would  consider  complimentary,  but  Miss  Minturn  would 
by  no  means  approve.  Therefore  he  has  contented  him- 
self with  admiring  the  bright  face  by  his  side,  which  is 
somewhat  dreamy  this  afternoon,  though  the  young 
lady's  inattention  has  not  been  flattering  to  a  self-pride 
with  which  he  is  well  provided. 

Finding  himself  alone  with  her,  he  breaks  in  upon  her 
brown  study  with  dominant  manner,  and  slightly  foreign 
accent,  remarking  :  "  Miss  Minturn,  your  friend,  young 
Mr.  Larchmont,  seems  to  be  attempting  to  improve  his 
French.  If  he  learns  French  from  Bastien  Lefort,  he 
will  acquire  the  language  of  the  bourgeois^  not  the  aristo- 
crat." 

"  Ah,  you  know  the  person  Mr.  Larchmont  is  talking 
to  ?  "  says  the  girl,  suddenly  growing  interested, 

"  Oh,  yes,  everyone  on  the  Parisian  Bourse  knows  him. 
He  is  a  large  investor  in  canal  stock." 

"  And  yet  he  takes  passage  in  the  second  cabin,"  returns 
Louise,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  he  is  going  to  examine  the  works  for  himself," 
replies  Wernig,  smiling  sarcastically.  "  He  is  a  man 
who  saves  his  sous.  My  only  surprise  is,  that  he  did 
not  go  in  the  steerage."  Then  he  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
and  his  large  eyes  roll  themselves  about  in  a  manner  he 
considers  expressive  of  admiration,  as  this  foreign  gen- 
tleman suggests:  "  Why  discuss  others,  Miss  Minturn, 
when  there  are  more  charming  people  on  board— much 


BARON    MONTEZ.  121 

more  charming — much  more  beautiful — and  so — so  de- 
lightful ?"  His  eyes  indicate  quite  pointedly  to  whom  he 
refers. 

At  this,  the  young  lady  gives  a  little  start,  and,  a 
soup^on  of  scorn  coming  into  her  voice,  replies  :  "  Then 
you  will  be  compelled  to  make  your  charming  conversa- 
tion  " 

^  •  '^  A  what  ?  "  cries  Herr  Wernig  enthusiastically. 

"  A  soliloquy  ! "  suggests  the  girl  sharply,  and  turn- 
ing on  her  heel,  gives  him  a  very  piquant  but  formal 
courtesy  of  adieu. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Larchmont  has  observed  her  conversation 
with  Herr  Wernig,  for  he  shortly  afterwards  leaves  his 
second-cabin  chum,  and  coming  aft,  takes  place  beside 
her,  as  she  is  lazily  looking  over  the  taffrail.  At  all  events 
he  mentions  it ;  for  he  asks,  a  trace  of  annoyance  in  his 
voice  :  "  What  do  you  find  interesting,  Miss  Minturn,  in 
that  old  foreign  duffer?  " 

''  Ah,  it  is  you,  is  it,  Mr.  Larchmont  ?  "  answers  the 
young  lady,  turning  a  pair  of  beautiful  but  uncompromis- 
ing eyes  upon  him  ;  for  she  has  been  somewhat  chagrined 
at  the  desertion  of  her  companion  of  yesterday.  Then 
she  goes  on  quickly,  "  What  old  foreign  duffer  ? " 

"  The  one  you  were  walking  with  a  few  minutes  ago — 
the  man  with  big  eyes,  and  a  cast  in  the  largest  one." 

"  Oh,  your  friend,"  murmurs  Louise. 

"  My  friend  ?  " 

**  Yes,  the  one  who  knows  your  brother  in  Paris,  so 
well." 

At  this,  a  shade  comes  over  Mr.  Larchmont's  face,  as 
he  murmurs  :  ''  Yes,  he  told  me  he  was  acquainted  with 
Frank." 

"  Perhaps  your  chum  of  the  second  cabin  is  also  a 
friend  of  your  brother's,"  replies  the  piqued  young  lady, 
affecting  an  archness  which  does  not  seem  to  raise  Mr. 
Larchmont's  spirits,  for  he  replies  with  gloomy  and 
morose  tone  and  sneering  voice,  "  You  evidently  don't 
know  my  brother  in  Paris  ;  he  does  not  associate  with 
second-cabin  passengers." 

Then,  to  turn  the  conversation,  he  attempts  a  cheerful 
and  playful  :  "  Where's  your  guitar  ?  This  will  be  a 
night  for  guitars.  This  evening  we  will  pass  Cuba  where 
guitars,  mandolins,  and  dulcimers  make  music  for  the 


122  BARON    MONTEZ. 

gay  fandango.  We  should  keep  in  the  atmosphere.  The 
guitar  this  evening,  eh,  Miss  Minturn  ?" 

"  No,"  determinedly  replies  Louise,  who  likes  not  his 
bantering  tone.     ''  I  shall  write  this  evening." 

Perhaps  some  subtle  beauty  in  the  girl — perhaps  the 
natural  buoyancy  of  youth — has  caused  Mr.  Larchmont's 
bad  spirits  to  entirely  disappear,  as  he  returns  lightly  : 
"Ah,  the  diary  !  We  have  not  seen  that  yet.  I  must  en- 
joy that  wonderful  diary,  even  if  I  have  to  steal  it !  " 

"  Never  !  "  says  the  girl  hoarsely,  looking  out  over 
the  horizon,  the  redness  of  confusion  upon  her  cheeks, 
for  she  cannot  meet  his  eyes  whenever  the  diary  is  men- 
tioned, 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

Then  Louise  grows  desperate,  for  he  is  smiling  an 
awful  smile.  She  mutters  :  "  You  shall  never  read  that 
diary — never  !     I  will  throw  it  overboard  first." 

Here  he  surprises  her  ;  he  whispers  impulsively  :  "  How 
anger  becomes  you  ! ''  As  in  truth,  it  does,  for  Louise 
Minturn  is  a  girl  whose  spirit  is  even  more  beautiful  than 
her  face,  and  in  excited  moments  her  soul  shining  out 
through  radiant  eyes  becomes  wonderfully  dominant  over 
her  delicate  and  mobile  face. 

A  moment  after,  Harry  continues:  "Yes,  throw  the 
diary  overboard — do  anything  with  it,  but  don't  write 
in  it  this  lovely  night." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because —  "  he  hesitates  slightly,  then  goes  on  with 
the  audacity  that  is  beloved  by  women  ;  "  because  I 
want  your  company.  You  will  take  pity  on  me,  and 
drive  away  the  blues — wont  you  ?     Promise  me." 

And  the  girl  answers  slowly  :  "  Y-e-s."  For  there  is 
an  appeal  in  Harry  Larchmont's  dark  eyes,  and  it  is  the 
first  time  he  has  ever  asked  a  personal  favor,  though  he 
has  given  her  many. 

She  turns  away,  murmuring  :  "  Good-by  !  " 

"  You  are  going  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure — to  put  my  guitar  in  order." 

"Then  au  rcvoir  until  dinner." 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten  dinner  !  " 

"What!  Forgotten  dinner?  "  laughs  the  gentleman. 
"  Oh,  guitars  and  mandolins  !     Here  is  a  romantic  soul !  " 

Whereupon,  covered  by  some  sudden  confusion,  she 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 23 

hurries  to  her  stateroom  ;  and  though  she  tunes  her 
guitar,  doubtless  some  of  its  chords  are  a  httle  false,  not- 
withstanding this  young  lady  has  a  very  correct  musical 
ear. 

For  some  occult  reason,  she  does  not  make  her  appear- 
ance at  dinner,  until  the  second  course.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  she  has  lingered,  arraying  herself  in  a  new  gown 
of  softest  folds  and  most  radiant  whiteness. 

As  she  steps  into  the  cabin,  young  Larchmont  stops 
hastily  in  his  fish,  and  mutters  to  himself  :  "  Undine  !  " 

She  does  not  hear  this,  for  the  skipper  at  the  head  of 
the  table  suddenly  breaks  out  with  a  chuckle,  continuing 
a  conversation  that  Louise  has  broken  in  upon  :  ''  I  had 
supposed,  Harry,  you  were  in  charge  of  Miss  Minturn 
here,  while  everybody  tells  me  you  have  been  making 
love  to  the  second-cabin  passengers." 

''  Miss  Minturn,  I  believe,  has  discharged  me,  in  favor 
of  Herr  Wernig,  the  Franco-German  capitalist,"  remarks 
Mr.  Larchmont,  as  if  disposed  to  put  the  brunt  of  the 
fight  upon  the  young  lady  just  taking  her  seat  beside 
him. 

This  suggestion  of  Herr  Wernig  makes  the  girl  angry, 
and  the  captain's  remark  does  not  add  to  her  self-control. 
He  returns :  "  Well,  it  seemed  very  natural  that  you  and 
Miss  Louise  should  become  comrades.  You  dance  the 
cotillon  with  her  cousin  in  New  York,  and  '  birds  of  a 
feather  flock  together  '  !  " 

Here  the  young  lady  interjects  :  "  Yes,  he  dances  with 
my  cousin.  Miss  Minturn  of  Fifth  Avenue,  but  she  is 
very  different  from  Miss  Minturn  the  stenographer,  of 
Seventeenth  Street."  Then  she  says,  unfalteringly  : 
"  Captain,  you  seem  to  be  laboring  under  a  misapprehen- 
sion. I  am  not  an  exotic  of  fashionable  New  York.  I 
am  simply  a  young  woman  who  makes  her  own  living. 
This  is  not  a  pleasure  trip  to  me.  It  is  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. I  am  going  out  to  be  the  stenographic  correspond- 
ent of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie." 

At  this  a  little  hush  comes  about  the  table.  The  ladies 
glance  at  her,  some  with  astonishment,  some  with  careless 
indifference — one  or  two  with  surprised  admiration,  most 
of  the  gentlemen  joining  apparently  in  the  latter. 

The  captain  suddenly  says  :  "  My  dear  young  lady,  I 
would  rather  have  you  sitting  at  my  table  than  any  Fifth 


124  l^ARON    MONTEZ. 

Avenue  girl  I  ever  met.  Harry  " — here  he  looks  at  Mr. 
Larchmont — "seems  to  be  of  the  same  opinion.  And  I, 
as  skipper  of  this  vessel,  would  much  sooner  have  him 
sitting  by  you  on  moonlight  nights"  (this  last  is  a  little 
whisper  for  her  own  particular  ear)  "  than  the  German 
capitalist  over  there."  He  nods  towards  the  table  where 
Herr  Wernig  is  discussing  his  champagne  with  his  third 
course. 

But  this  announcement,  that  the  girl  has  perhaps  care- 
lessly but  very  candidly  made,  seems  to  produce  a  differ- 
ence in  several  people,  in  their  bearing  towards  her. 
Among  the  ladies,  some  who  had  been  quite  effusive  to 
the  supposed  belle  of  fashionable  Fifth  Avenue  grow 
distant,  perhaps  supercilious  ;  a  few,  those  of  undoubted 
social  position,  are,  if  anything,  kinder  to  her  than  before  ; 
one  or  two  of  them,  in  leaving  the  cabin,  making  it  their 
business  to  stop  and  speak  to  Miss  Minturn.  The  gen- 
tlemen seem  about  the  same  ;  to  Mr.  Larchmont,  this 
announcement  of  course  makes  no  difference,  he  has 
known  it  all  along. 

As  Louise  rises  from  the  table,  he  whispers :  "  Re- 
member your  promise.  Cuban  breezes,  moonlight  and 
music  !  " 

But  this  news  about  the  beautiful  American  girl,  which 
after  a  little  time  drifts  to  his  ear,  seems  to  make  one 
gentleman  unusually  joyous,  and  to  affect  his  spirits  even 
more  than  the  champagne,  of  which  he  is  unusually 
lavish  this  evening. 

This  is  Herr  Wernig,  the  Franco-German  capitalist ; 
and  very  shortly  after,  getting  on  deck,  he  strolls  to 
Miss  Minturn's  side,  his  manner  effusive,  and  his  tone 
even  more  affable  than  it  had  been  in  the  afternoon,  and 
whispers,  "  My  dear  Miss  Louise,  1  am  delighted  to  hear 
you  are  a  stenographer — the  stenographer  of  my  grand 
friend,  the  Baron  Montez  of  Panama  and  Paris.  It  will 
be  a  very  fine  position  for  you.  I  have  great  influence 
with  the  firm.     I  shall  try  to  advance  you." 

*'  Please  do  not  trouble  yourself  on  my  behalf,  in  any 
way  !  "  replies  Louise  ;  then  laughs  :  "  It  would  do  no 
good.  I  am  under  contract.  They  will  not  raise  my 
salary  for  a  year." 

"  But  I  insist — I  must — I  will  apply  for  you  !  I  cannot 
help  it,  my  dear  young  lady.     I  have  much  business  with 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I25 

your  firm — in  fact,  confidential  relations — I'll  ask  them, 
when  on  the  Isthmus,  to  appoint  you  my  stenographer." 

Here  Mr.  Larchmont  suddenly  puts  his  camp-stool 
between  Miss  Louise  and  the  German  gentleman,  to 
whom  he  whispers  :  "  Herr  Wernig,  when  you  have  any 
letter-writing  to  do,  you  come  to  me.  I  am  correspond- 
ing clerk,  also,  of  the  Pacific  }Aai\  Steamship  Company. 
I  am  not  as  good  a  stenographer  as  Miss  Minturn,  but 
still  I  think  I  can  do  all  the  correspondence  you  wish — 
perhaps  morey  The  "more"  is  emphasized,  as  he  hap- 
pens to  get  the  leg  of  iiis  steamer-chair  over  the  Ger- 
man's toe,  and  seating  himself  on  it,  his  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  pounds  of  athletic  material  makes  Herr 
Wernig  writhe. 

He  snarls  :  "  Sir,  do  you  know  to  whom  you  are  talk- 
ing ?  You  clerk  !  I  will  have  you"  discharged  from  the 
Pacific  xMail." 

"You'll  have  me  discharged  .?  "  laughs  Harry.  Then 
a  bantering  tone  coming  into  his  voice,  he  says  :  "  Oh, 
please  don't  !  For  God's  sake,  think  of  a  young  man 
left  to  starve  on  the  Isthmus  !  "  Next  bursts  into  a 
sudden  shriek  of  laughter,  which  indicates,  if  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst,  he  has  a  stout  heart,  and  will  make 
out  to  subsist  •  upon  plantains,  oranges,  and  bananas, 
that  can  be  had  for  the  plucking,  in  that  land  of  tropical 
plenty. 

But  his  laugh  is  lost  upon  the  German  gentleman,  who 
has  gone  sullenly  and  silently  away. 

As  he  turns  to  Miss  Minturn,  Larchmont's  laugh 
ceases,  for  he  sees  something  in  the  girl,  that  he  has 
never  seen  before — her  soul !  And  as  it  shines  from 
her  radiant  eyes,  it  is  more  beautiful  to  him  than  all  else 
he  has  seen  of  her,  which  up  to  this  time  has  seemed  to 
him  the  fairest  of  womanhood. 

Besides  there  is  something  in  her  glance  that  makes 
him  extraordinarily  but  unaccountably  happy. 

All  through  this  evening,  the  young  man  seems  to  be 
in  the  highest  spirits,  as  well  he  should  be,  having  the 
beauty  of  the  ship  by  his  side. 

They  are  a  little  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  passengers 
— just  enough  to  make  them  tete-a-tete — but  hardly  suffi- 
cient to  excite  remark.  The  moonlight,  shining  over 
silver  waves,  streams  on  the  deck,  and  makes  it  bright, 


126  BARON    MONTEZ, 

but  leaves  them  in  shadow.  One  red  ray,  like  a  gigantic 
calcium,  mingling  with  the  moonlight  on  the  water,  comes 
from  the  lighthouse  on  the  eastern  point  of  Cuba  ;  a 
shore  that  looks  olive  beneath  the  moonlight,  but  under 
the  sun  would  bo  green  as  an  emerald,  and  beautiful 
with  flowers,  could  they  but  see  them,  but  the  soft 
breeze  wafts  over  the  water,  odors  that  are  magic  as 
those  of  fairy-land. 

Looking  on  this,  Harry  Larchmont  whispers  to  the 
young  lady  at  his  side  :  "  Now  give  to  this  scene,  music  ! 
Complete  it,  and  let  us  forget  all  else  in  this  wide  world 
— except  you  and  me." 

There  is  a  suggestion  of  romance  in  his  tone,  but  be- 
neath all  there  seems  a  sorrow,  which  arouses  the  sympathy 
of  this  girl,  who,  until  these  last  few  days,  had  supposed 
that  Harry  Larchmont's  life  was  as  bright  as  that  of  any 
mortal  upon  this  earth.  While  she  sings  a  little  roman- 
tic, plaintive,  piquant  Spanish  love  song,  just  fitted  for 
this  moonlight  night,  she  wonders  what  cloud  has  come 
over  him.  Then,  at  his  request,  she  sings  another,  and 
being  made  enthusiastic  by  the  scene  and  its  surround- 
ings, gives  her  heart  to  the  melody,  and  her  beautiful 
contralto  voice  very  shortly  draws  others  of  the  loiterers 
on  deck  about  her. 

Apparently  this  throng  does  not  please  Mr.  Larchmont ; 
he  rises,  and  says  :  "  Thank  you  for  a  perfect  evening, 
Miss  Louise,"  and  so  passes  away  from  the  girl,  though 
she- notes  that  he  does  not  go  to  the  card-room,  but  rather 
seeks  his  own  cabin. 

Then  the  loungers  around  her  beg  for  another  ballad  ; 
and  she  sings  it,  but  her  heart  is  not  in  it. 

A  moment  after,  she  leaves  them,  notwithstanding  their 
entreaties  for  more  Spanish  melodies,  and  passing  to  her 
own  stateroom,  sits  and  looks  out  over  the  moonlit 
water,  breathes  in  the  perfumed  air,  and  dreams  a  dream 
that  is  so  happy  she  would  continue  it,  did  not  the 
stewardess  come  and  put  her  light  out,  and  destroy 
romance  with  common  every-day  shipboard  rules  and 
regulations. 

In  her  berth  she  gets  to  thinking,  and  murmurs  to  her- 
self :  ''  Poor  fellow  !  What  can  have  come  into  his  life 
to  make  it  sad  ? "  Then  awful  distress  comes  upon  her  ; 
she  suddenly  gasps,  "He  is  parted  from  Miss  Severn! 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I27 

That  is  the  reason  of  his  unhappiness  !  "  and  feels  that 
her  heart  is  drifting  away  from  her,  to  a  man  whose  love 
is  given  to  another. 

As  for  this  object  of  her  sympathy,  he  is  not  dreaming — 
he  is  swearing.  He  is  saying  to  himself  :  "  Dolt  !  Idiot  ! 
Why  did  you  make  an  enemy  of  that  fellow  Wernig  ? 
He  might  have  helped  you  in  your  investigations  about 
Baron  Montez."  Then  he  suddenly  mutters  :  "  I  am 
glad  I  did  it,  anyway  !  Did  he  suppose  a  beautiful 
American  girl  would  look  with  anything  but  disgust  at 
such  a  creature?  What  did  he  mean,  anyway?"  Here 
he  suddenly  grinds  out  between  his  teeth  :  "  If  I  were 
quite  sure,  I'd  knock  his  foreign  head  off  !  " 

A  moment  after,  he  meditates  gloomily  :  "  But  I  have 
other  fish  to  fry  than  fighting  Wernig.  1  am  fighting 
Montez,  not  for  Jessie's  sake,  but  for  my  own.  I  don't 
want  to  give  up  two-thirds  of  my  fortune  to  save  my 
weak  brother's  name  and  give  his  ward  her  dot.  What 
can  I  find  out  on  the  Isthmus  anyway  ?  It  is  the  last 
straw  !  I  fear  I  am  on  a  wild-goose  chase.  But  the 
game  is  never  lost  till  time  is  called,  and  1  have  got  a 
few  months  yet !  " 

Whereupon  he  lights  a  cigar,  strolls  out  of  his  cabin,, 
and  would  shatter  a  fond  idea  of  Miss  Minturn's,  did 
she  see  him  ;  for  he  goes  to  the  card-room,  and  plays 
poker  most  of  the  night,  to  drive  away  thought  ;  this 
time  with  better  success  than  the  night  before. 

The  fickle  goddess  smiles  upon  him,  and  he  wins  con- 
siderable money  ;  some  of  it  from  Herr  Wernig,  who 
has  apparently  forgotten  this  young  gentleman's  imper- 
tinence of  the  early  evening,  though  once  or  twice  there 
is  an  ominous  look  in  his  eccentric  eye  as  he  rolls  it 
towards  his  fortunate  opponent. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    BUNDLE    OF    LETTERS. 


The  next  day  Herr  Wernig  has  become  again  effusive- 
ly affectionate  and  thrusts  his  society  upon  Mr.  Larch- 
mont,  though  that  young  gentleman  gives  him  but  little 


128  BARON    MONTEZ. 

chance,  as  he  is  again  devoting  himself  to  the  second- 
cabin  passengers. 

This  time,  he  has  dropped  the  society  of  the  man 
Bastien  Lefort  for  that  of  one  of  the  second-cabin  ladies. 

This  lady  has  a  little  child  of  about  five.  With  pater- 
nal devotion  Harry  takes  this  tot  up  and  carries  it  about, 
as  he  talks  to  the  mother.  This  attention  seems  to 
win  the  lady's  heart.  And  he  spends  a  good  deal  of 
the  morning  promenading  by  her  side.  By  the  time  he 
returns  to  lunch  in  the  first  cabin,  "  his  flirtation,"  as 
they  express  it,  has  been  pretty  well  discussed  by  the 
various  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  after  part  of  the  ship. 
Of  course  it  comes  to  Miss  Minturn's  pretty  ears,  and 
sets  her  wondering. 

After  an  afternoon  siesta-^for  the  boat  is  now  well 
in  the  tropics,  and  everybody  is  drifting  with  it  into  the 
languid  manners  of  the  torrid  zone — Louise  strolls  on 
the  deck  for  a  little  sea  breeze,  and  chancing  to  meet 
the  gentleman  of  her  thoughts,  puts  her  reflections  into 
words. 

This  subject  is  easily  led  up  to,  as  Mr.  Larchmont 
even  now  has  in  his  arms  the  little  girl  from  the  second 
cabin. 

"  Miss  Louise,"  he  says,  "  this  is  a  new  friend  of  mine. 
This  is  pretty  little  Miss  Minnie  Winterburn,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  machinist  on  one  of  the  Chagres  dredgers.  Her 
father  has  been  out  there  almost  since  the  opening  of 
the  railroad.     He  is  by  this  time  used  to  yellow  fever." 

"And  her  mother?"  suggests  the  young  lady  rather 
pointedly,  for  Harry's  speech  has  been  made  in  a  ram- 
bling, semi-embarrassed  manner. 

"  Oh,  her  mother,"  returns  Mr.  Larchmont,  "  is  on 
board  in  the  second  cabin.  She  is  much  younger  than 
her  husband — third  or  fourth  wife — that  sort  of  thing, 
you  understand.  I  have  brought  the  little  lady  aft  to 
get  some  oranges  from  the  steward."  Which  fact  is 
apparent,  as  the  child  is  playing  with  two  of  the  bright 
yellow  fruits.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I'll  return  my 
little  friend  to  maternal  arms,  and  be  with  you  in  a 
minute.  Let  me  make  you  comfortable  on  this  camp- 
stool." 

Arranging  the  seat  for  her,  Harry  strolls  off  with  the 
little  girl.     As  he  walks  away  the  young  lady's  eyes  care- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I29 

lessly  follow  him ;  suddenly  they  grow  tender.  She 
notices  the  careful  way  he  carries  the  little  tot,  and  it 
reminds  her  of  how  he  had  borne  her  through  the  snow 
and  ice  of  that  awful  New  York  blizzard. 

Apparently  the  emotion  has  not  left  her  eyes  when 
Larchmont  returns  to  her;  for  he  says,  his  eyes  growing 
tender  also  :  "  To-night  we  will  have  another  musical 
evening  ?  " 

''  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  sing  for  you  this  evening," 
ejaculates  the  young  lady  lightly,  for  seats  beside  each 
other  three  times  a  day  at  the  dining-table,  and  the  easy 
intercourse  of  shipboard  life  have  made  her  feel  quite 
e/i  camarade  with  this  young  gentleman,  save  when 
thoughts  of  her  diary  bring  confusion  upon  her. 

"Why  not?" 

''  Oh  !  second-cabin  society  in  the  daytime,  second- 
cabin  romance  at  night." 

'•  Was  there  a  y^;-j-/-cabin  romance  last  night  ? "  asks 
the  gentleman,  turning  embarrassing  eyes  upon  her. 

"  No — of  course  not — I — I  didn't  mean  anything  of 
the  kind  !  "  stammers  Louise. 

"  Indeed  !     What  did  you  mean  ? " 

'•  I  meant,"  says  the  girl,  steadying  herself,  "  that  you 
seem  to  prefer  second-cabin  society  during  the  daytime 
— why  not  enjoy  it  also  in  the  evening  ?  " 

Whereupon  he  startles  her  by  saying  suddenly  :  "  How 
a  false  position  makes  everything  appear  false  !  I  pre- 
sume, Miss  Minturn,  you  imagine  I  enjoy  the  patois  of 
Monsieur  Bastien  Lefort,  and  the  good-hearted  but 
homely  remarks  of  the  wife  of  the  machinist — but  I 
don't !  " 

"  Then  why  associate  with  them  ? " 

"  That  for  the  present  must  be  my  secret !  Miss 
Louise,  we  have  been  very  good  friends  on  shipboard. 
Don't  go  to  imagining — don't  go  to  putting  two  and  two 
together — simply  believe  that  I  am  just  the  same  kind  of 
an  individual  as  I  was  five  days  ago."  Then  he  brings 
curious  joy  upon  her,  for  he  whispers  impulsively,  a  pecu- 
liar light  coming  into  his  eyes  :  "  No,  not  the  same  indi- 
vidual !  "  and  gives  the  young  lady's  tempting  hand,  that 
has  been  carelessly  lying  upon  the  arm  of  her  steamer- 
chair,  a  sudden  though  deferential  squeeze  ;  and  with 
this,  leaves  her  to  astonished  meditation. 


130  BARON    MONTEZ. 

She  does  not  see  him  till  dinner,  which  he  eats  with 
great  attention  to  detail  and  dishes.  But,  though  he 
says  very  little,  every  now  and  then  he  turns  a  glance 
upon  her  that  destroys  her  appetite. 

At  dessert,  this  is  noted  by  the  captain,  who  in  his 
affable  sailor  way,  with  loud  voice  suggests  :  "  What's  the 
matter  with  your  appetite,  Miss  Louise  ?  Has  the  guitar 
playing  of  last  night  taken  it  away  ?  Not  a  decent  meal 
since  yesterday." 

"Oh,"  replies  the  young  lady,  "the  weather  is  too  hot 
for  appetite  !  " 

"  But  not  for  flirtations  !  "  says  the  awful  sea-dog. 
Then  he  turns  a  winking  eye  upon  Larchmont,  and 
chuckles :  "  Remember,  Harry,  kisses  stop  at  the  gang- 
plank !  " 

"  Not  with  me  !  "  says  the  young  man,  determination 
in  his  face  and  significance  in  his  tone  :  "  If  I  made 
love  to  a  girl  on  shipboard,  1  should  make  love  to  her — 
always!  I'm  no  sailor-lover  !  "  With  this  parting  shot 
at  the  skipper  he  strolls  from  the  table,  and  goes  away  to 
after-dinner  cigar. 

"  By  Venus,  we've  a  Romeo  on  board  !  "  cries  the 
captain.  "  Where's  the  Juliet  ?  "  and  turns  remorseless 
eyes  upon  Miss  Minturn. 

Fortunately  this  little  episode  has  not  been  noticed  by 
any  of  her  fellow  passengers,  nearly  all  of  them  having 
left  the  table  before  Mr.  Larchmont. 

A  moment  after,  Louise  follows  the  rest  on  deck,  blushes 
on  her  cheeks,  brightness  in  her  eyes,  elasticity  in  her 
step.  She  is  thinking:  "  If  he  loved  me,  he  would  love 
— always.  Did  he  mean  that  for — "  Here  wild  hope 
stops  sober  thought ;  but  after  this  there  is  a  curious  dif- 
fidence in  her  manner  to  Mr.  Larchmont,  though  she  does 
not  avoid  his  companionship — in  fact,  from  now  on,  he  can 
have  her  society  whenever  he  will,  which  is  very  often. 

This  evening  he  asks  for  more  songs,  and  gets  them, 
perhaps  even  more  soulfully  given  than  the  evening 
before.     So  the  night  passes. 

And  the  next  day  is  another  pleasant  tropic  one,  that 
the  two  dream  out  together  under  the  awnings,  with 
bright  sunshine  overhead,  and  rippling  waves,  that  each 
hour  grow  more  blue,  running  beside  them  as  the  great 
ship  draws  near  the  Equator. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I3I 

And  there  is  a  new  something  in  both  their  eyes,  for 
the  girl  has  thrown  away  any  defences  that  her  short 
year's  struggle  with  the  world  of  business  may  have  put 
about  her,  and  is  simply  a  woman  whom  love  is  making 
more  lovely  ;  and  the  gentleman  has  forgotten  the  con- 
servatism of  his  conservative  class,  and  is  becoming 
ardent  as  the  sun  that  puts  bronze  upon  their  blushing 
faces. 
'  So  the  second  evening  comes  upon  them,  and  the 
two  are  again  together  on  the  deck,  and  the  strings  of 
the  girl's  guitar  seem  softer  and  her  voice  is  lower. 

Then  the  crowd  on  deck  having  melted  away,  their 
moonlight  tHe  a  tete,  as  the  soft  blue  ripples  of  the 
Caribbean  roll  past  them,  grov/s  confidential.  Drawn  out 
by  the  young  man,  Miss  Minturn,  gives  him  her  past 
history,  which  interests  him  greatly,  especially  that  por- 
tion referring  to  the  disappearance  of  her  mother's 
parents  on  the  Isthmus. 

He  suggests,  "  In  Panama,  perhaps  you  may  learn 
their  fate." 

"  But  that  was  so  long  ago,"  says  Louise. 

"  Nevertheless — supposing  you  look  through  your  old 
letters.  It  won't  do  any  harm.  Let  me  help  you.  It 
will  give  us  a  pleasant  morning's  occupation,"  goes  on 
Harry,  quite  eagerly. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  be  happy  without  the 
letters  ?  "  laughs  Louise.  Then  she  suddenly  whispers  : 
"  Oh,  they  are  putting  out  the  lights  !  "  and  rises  to  go. 

''  Blow  the  lights  !  "  answers  Larchmont,  who  is  out 
of  his  steamer-chair,  and  somehow  has  got  hold  of  Miss 
Louise's  pretty  hand.     "  Promise  the  morning  to  me." 

"  The  whole  morning  ?  " 

"  Why  are  you  so  evasive  ?     Promise — will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  stop  squeezing  my  hand.  You — you 
forget  you  have  football  fingers  !  "  gasps  Louise  ;  for 
his  fervid  clasp  upon  her  tender  digits  is  making  her 
writhe. 

"  Forgive  me  !  " 

*'  0-o-oh  !  " 

He  has  suddenly  kissed  the  hand,  and  the  girl  has 
flown  away  from  him. 

At  the  companion-way  she  turns,  hesitates,  then  waves 
adieu,  making  a  picture  that  would  cause  any  man's  heart 


132  BARON    MONTEZ. 

to  beat  The  moonlight  is  full  upon  her,  haloing  her  ex- 
quisite figure  that  is  draped  in  a  soft  white  fluttering 
robe  that  clings  about  it,  and  would  make  it  ethereal, 
were  not  its  round  contours  and  charming  curves  of 
beauty,  those  of  the  very  birth  of  graceful,  glorious 
womanhood.  One  white  hand  is  upraised,  motioning 
to  him ;  one  little  slippered  foot  is  placed  upon  the 
combing  of  the  hatchway.  Her  eyes  in  the  moonlight 
seem  like  stars.  Her  lips  appear  to  move  as  she  glides 
down  the  companion-way.  Then  the  stars  disappear,  and 
Harry  Larchmont  thinks  the  moon  has  gone  out  also. 

He  sits  there  meditating,  and  after  a  little,  his  lips 
frame  the  words  :  ''  If  I  did,  what  would  they  say  ?  " 
Then  rising,  he  shakes  himself  like  a  Newfoundland  dog 
that  is  throwing  the  water  from  him,  tosses  his  head  about, 
puts  his  hand  through  his  curly  hair,  laughs  softly,  and 
says  to  himself  :  "  Hanged  if  I  care  what  anyone  says  !  " 

Curiously  enough,  he  does  not  go  to  the  card-room 
this  evening,  for  he  paces  the  deck  for  some  two  hours 
more,  meditating  over  three  or  four  cigars  that  he 
smokes  in  a  nervous,  excitable,  fidgety  manner. 

The  next  morning,  however,  as  Miss  Louise,  a  picture 
of  dainty  freshness,  steps  on  the  deck,  he  is  apparently 
waiting  for  her.  His  looks  are  eager.  There  is  perchance 
a  tone  of  proprietorship  in  his  voice  as,  after  bidding  her 
good  morning,  he  says  :  "  A  turn  or  two  for  exercise 
first,  then  breakfast,  and  then  the  letters  ! " 

*'  Oh,  you  are  beginning  business  early  to-day,"  laughs 
the  young  lady,  whose  eyes  seem  very  bright  and  happy. 

"  Yes.     You  see  I  want  all  your  morning." 

**  Then  you  will  have  to  read  very  slowly,"  suggests 
Miss  Louise,  "  or  the  letters  will  not  occupy  you  till 
lunch  time." 

"  After  the  letters  are  finished,  there  will  doubtless  be 
something  else,"  remarks  the  young  man  confidently  ;  and 
in  this  prediction  he  is  right,  though  he  would  stand 
aghast  if  he  knew  what  he  prophesied. 

So  the  two  go  down  to  breakfast  together,  and  make 
a  merry  meal  of  it,  as  the  captain,  occupied  by  some  ship's 
duty,  is  not  there  to  embarrass  them  by  sea-dog  asides 
and  jovial  nautical  jokes  that  bring  indignant  glances 
from  the  young  man,  and  appealing  blushes  from  the 
young  lady. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 33 

They  have  finished  their  oranges  when  Mr.  Larchmont 
says  eagerly  :  "  The  letters  !  " 

"  They  are  too  numerous  for  my  pocket !  "  answers  the 
girl. 

"  You  have  not  read  them  ?  " 

"  Not  for  years.  In  fact,  I've  forgotten  all  there  is  in 
them,  except  their  general  tone  ;  but  I  fished  them  out 
of*my  trunk  last  night." 

"  Very  well  !  Run  to  your  cabin,  and  I'll  have  steamer 
chairs  in  the  coolest  place  on  deck,  where  the  skipper  will 
be  least  likely  to  find  us,"  replies  Harry  ;  and  the  young 
lady,  doing  his  bidding,  shortly  returns  to  find  a  cosy 
seat  in  the  shadiest  spot  under  the  awnings,  and  Mr. 
Larchmont  awaiting  her. 

"  Ah,  those  are  they  !  "  he  says,  assisting  her,  with 
rather  more  attention  than  is  absolutely  necessary,  to  the 
steamer  chair  beside  him,  and  gazing  at  a  little  packet  of 
envelopes  grown  yellow  by  time,  and  tied  together  with  a 
faded  blue  ribbon.  "■  These  look  as  if  they  might  con- 
tain a  good  deal." 

"  Yes,"  replies  the  girl,  "  they  contain  a  mother's 
heart !  " 

Looking  over  these  letters  that  cover  a  period  of  four 
years,  they  find  that  Louise  is  right.  They  have  been 
carefully  arranged  in  order.  Most  of  them  are  simply 
descriptions  of  early  life  in  California,  and  of  Alice  Rip- 
ley's husband's  efforts  for  fortune  and  final  success  ;  but 
every  line  of  them  is  freighted  with  a  mother's  love. 

The  last  four  bear  much  more  pointedly  upon  the  sub- 
ject that  interests  the  young  man  and  the  young  lady. 
The  first  of  these  is  a  letter  describing  Alice  Ripley  and 
her  husband's  arrival  at  San  Francisco  e/i  ?'oute  for  New 
York,  and  mentioning  that  she  encloses  to  her  daughter 
a  tintype  taken  of  her  by  Mr.  Edouart,  the  Californian 
daguerreotypist. 

"  You  have  the  picture  ? "  asks  Mr.  Larchmont. 

"  Yes,"  says  the  girl.  "  I  brought  it  with  me,  thinking 
you  might  like  to  look  at  it,"  and  shows  him  the  same 
beautiful  face,  the  same  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair  that 
had  delighted  the  gaze  of  Senor  Montez  in  far-away 
Toboga  in  1856. 

"  It  is  rather  like  you,"  suggests  Harry,  turning  his 
eyes  upon  the  pretty  creature  beside  him. 


134  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"Only  a  family  likeness,  I  think,"  remarks  the  young 
lady. 

"  Of  course  not  as  beautiful  ! "  asserts  the  gentleman. 

"  I  wish  I  agreed  with  you,"  laughs  Louise.  Then 
she  suddenly  changes  her  tone  and  says  :  "  But  we  came 
here  to  discuss  letters,  not  faces,"  and  devotes  herself  to 
the  other  epistles. 

The  second  is  a  letter  written  by  Alice  Ripley  from 
Acapulco,  telling  her  child  that  sickness  has  come  upon 
her  ;  that  she  is  hardly  able  to  write  ;  still,  God  willing, 
that  she  will  live  through  the  voyage  to  again  kiss  her 
daughter. 

The  third,  in  contradistinction  to  the  others,  is  in  mas- 
culine hand-writing,  dated  April  loth,  1856,  and  signed 
**  George  Merritt  Ripley." 

"  That  is  from  my  grandfather,"  says  Louise. 

Looking  over  this  letter,  Larchmont  remarks  :  "  A 
bold  hand  and  a  noble  spirit  !  "  for  it  is  a  record  of  a 
father's  love  for  his  only  daughter,  and  it  tells  of  the 
mother's  illness  and  how  he  had  brought  his  wife  to 
Panama,  fearing  death  was  upon  her,  but  that  a  kind 
friend,  he  has  made  on  the  Isthmus,  has  suggested  that 
he  take  the  invalid  to  Toboga.  That  on  that  island, 
thank  God,  the  sea  breezes  are  bringing  health  again  to 
her  mother's  cheeks. 

There  is  but  one  letter  more,  a  long  one,  but  hastily 
written  upon  a  couple  of  sheets  of  note  paper.  This  is 
inside  one  of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Company's  envelopes,  for 
in  1856  the  express  company  carried  from  California  to 
the  East,  nearly  as  much  mail  matter  as  the  United 
States  Government. 

It  reads  as  follows  : 

"Panama,  April  i^ih,  1856, 
"  My  Darling  Mary  : 

"  I  write  this  because  you  will  get  it  one  day  before  your  mother's 
kisses  and  embraces.  Can  you  understand  it  ?  When  you  receive 
this,  I  shall  be  but  one  day  behind  it — for  it  will  come  with  me  on  the 
same  steamer  to  New  York  ;  but  there,  though  I  would  fly  before  it, 
circumstances  are  such  that  it  will  meet  you  one  day  before  your 
mother. 

"  Tears  of  joy  arc  in  my  eyes  as  I  write  ;  for  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  once  more  I  am  well  and  happy,  and  so  is  your  dear  father. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I35 

*'  How  happy  we  both  are  to  think  that  our  darling  will  be  in  our 
arms  so  soon  !  "We  are  en  rotite  to  New  York.  Think  of  it,  Mary — 
to  you  !     We  left  Toboga  this  morning. 

"  I  am  writing  this  in  the  Pacific  House  where  we  stay  to-night, 
to  take  the  train  for  Aspinwall  to-morrow  morning. 

*'The  gentleman  who  has  been  so  kind  to  your  father  and  me, 
has  come  with  us  from  Toboga,  to  see  the  last  of  us.  He  has  just 
'ftbw  gone  into  the  main  town  of  Panama,  which  gives  me  time  to 
write  this,  for  your  father  and  I  have  remained  here.  It  is  so  much 
more  convenient  for  us  to  rest  near  the  station,  the  trunk  is  so 
heavy — the  trunk  your  father  is  bringing  filled  with  California  gold- 
dust  for  his  little  daughter.  I  have  a  string  of  pearls  around  my 
neck,  which  shall  be  yours  also.  Papa  bought  them  to-day  from 
Senor  Montez." 

At  this  Harry,  who  has  been  reading,  stops  with  a 
gasp,  and  Louise  cries  :  "  Montez  !  That's  what  made 
Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.  so  familiar !  Montez  !  It  was 
the  name  in  this  old  letter!"  Then  she  whispers: 
*'  How  curious  !  Can  my  employer  be  the  man  of  this 
letter  ?  " 

"  He  is  !  "  answers  Harry,  for  while  the  girl  has  been 
whispering,  he  has  been  glancing  over  the  last  of  the 
manuscript.  He  now  astounds  her  by  muttering  :  "  See, 
here's  his  accursed  name  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  stammers  Miss  Minturn. 

''  That  afterwards,"  goes  on  Mr.  Larchmont  ;  then  he 
hastily  reads  : 

"  This  gentleman  has  been  inexpressibly  kind  to  us.  George  says 
that  he  saved  me  from  death  by  the  fever,  because  he  took  us  to  the 
breezes  of  Toboga. 

"  On  parting,  my  husband  offered  him  any  present  that  he  might 
select,  but  Senor  Fernando  Gomez  Montez  (what  a  high-sounding 
name  !)  said  he  would  only  request  something  my  husband  had  worn 
— his  revolver,  for  instance — as  a  souvenir  of  our  visit. 

"  I  am  hastily  finishing  this,  because  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
paper.  There  is  quite  a  noise  and  excitement  outside.  Papa  is 
going  down  to  see  what  it  is,  and  will  put  this  letter  into  Wells, 
Fargo  &  Company's  mail  sack,  so  that  my  little  daughter  may  know 
that  her  father  and  mother  are  just  one  day  behind  it — coming  to  see 
her  grow  up  to  happy  womanhood,  and  blessing  God  who  has  beea 


136  BARON    MONTEZ. 

kind  to  them  and  given  them  fortune,  so  that  they  may  do  so  much 
for  their  idol. 

*'  With  a  hundred  kisses,  from  both  father  and  mother,  my  dar- 
ling, I  remain,  as  I  ever  shall  be, 

"  Your  loving  mother, 

"  Alice  Louise  Ripley. 

"  P.  S.  Next  time  I  shall  give  the  kisses  in  person  !  Think  of  it  ! 
Lips  to  lips  !  " 

"  Does  not  this  bear  a  mother's  heart  ?  "  whispers  Miss 
Louise,  who  has  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  and  the  record  of  a  villain  !  "  adds  Harry  im- 
pulsively. 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

*'  I  mean  this,"  says  the  gentleman.  "  Last  evening 
you  told  me  that  your  mother's  parents  and  treasure  dis- 
appeared during  a  negro  riot  upon  the  Isthmus  on  April 
15th,  1856,  the  day  this  letter  was  written.  Their  gold 
was  with  them.  That  was  their  doom  !  Had  they  not 
carried  their  California  dust  under  their  own  eyes,  they 
would  have  lived  to  embrace  their  daughter  !  " 

"  What  makes  you  guess  this  ?  "  asks  the  girl,  her  face 
becoming  agitated  and  surprised. 

"  I  not  only  guess  it — I  know  it  ! — and  that  he  had 
something  to  do  with  it  !  " 

."He— who?" 

"  Sefior  Fernando  Gomez  Montez  !  " 

"  Why,  this  letter  speaks  of  him  as  a  friend  who  had 
saved  her  life  !  " 

"  That  was  to  gain  the  confidence  of  her  husband,  so 
he  could  betray  him.  Why  did  he  ask  for  George  Rip- 
ley's revolver,  so  as  to  leave  him  unarmed  ?  His  nature 
is  the  same  to-day  !  He  has  also  betrayed  another 
bosom  friend  !  "  says  Harry  excitedly. 

"Tell  me  what  you  know  about  him  !"  whispers  the 
girl  eagerly. 

To  this,  after  a  momentary  pause  of  thought,  Larch- 
mont  replies  :  "  I  will — I  must  !  "  And  now  astounds 
her,  for  he  mutters  :  "  I  need  your  aid  !  " 

"  My  aid  !     How  ?  " 

"  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  in  confidence,"  answers 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I37 

the  young  man.     Then  he  looks  upon  her  and  mutters  : 
"  You  have  no  interest  to  betray  me  ? " 

"  Betray  you  ?  "  she  cries,  "  you  who  saved  my  life  ? 
No,  no,  no  !  "  and  answers  his  glance. 

"  Then,"  says  the  young  man,  "  listen  to  the  story  of  a 
Franco  American  fool  !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  yourself  so  !  " 
'*""  No,"  he  laughs  bitterly,  chewing  the  end  of  his  mus- 
tache ;  "  I  am  referring  to  my  brother  !  " 

"  Oh,  your  French  brother  !  "  cries  the  young  lady, 
'*the  one  your  uncle  sneered  about." 

"  The  one  I  shall  sneer  about  also,  and  you  will  by 
the  time  you  know  him  !  "  This  explosion  over,  Mr. 
Larchmont  goes  on  contemplatively  :  "  My  brother  is 
not  a  bad  fellow  at  heart.  Had  he  been  brought  up 
differently,  he  might  have  had  more  force  of  character, 
though  I  don't  think  it  would  have  ever  been  a  strong 
one." 

Then  his  voice  grows  bitter  as  he  continues  :  "  There 
is  a  school  in  New  Hampshire,  or  Vermont,  called  Saint 
Regis,  the  head-master  of  which,  had  he  lived  in  ancient 
Greece,  would  have  been  promptly  and  justly  condemned, 
by  an  Athenian  jury,  to  drink  the  juice  of  hemlock,  and 
die.— for  corrupting  the  youth  of  the  country  j  because  he 
makes  them  unpatriotic  and  un-American.  This  gentle- 
man is  a  foreigner — a  man  of  good  breeding,  but  though 
he  educates  the  youth  of  this  country — some  five  or  six 
hundred  of  them — he  still  despises  everything  American. 
He  calls  his  classes  '  Forms,'  after  the  manner  of  the 
English  public  schools.  He  frowns  upon  base-ball  be- 
cause it  is  American,  and  encourages  cricket  because  it  is 
an  English  game.  He  tries  to  make  his  pupils  foreigners, 
not  Americans.  Not  that  I  do  not  think  an  English- 
man is  better  for  England,  or  a  Frenchman  better  for 
France,  but  I  know  that  an  American  is  better  for 
America  !  Therefore  he  injures  the  youth  of  the  United 
States.  However,  it  has  become  the  fashion  among  cer- 
tain of  our  better  families  in  New  York  to  send  their 
boys  to  his  school,  to  be  taught  to  despise,  practically, 
their  own  country. 

"  Frank  was  sent  to  Saint  Regis,  and  swallowed  the  un- 
patriotic microbes  his  tutor  stuffed  him  with.  After  he 
left  there,  Yale,  Harvard,  or   Princeton  was  not   good 


138  BARON    MONTEZ. 

enough  for  him.  He  must  go  to  a  foreign  university. 
Which,  it  did  not  matter — Oxford,  Cambridge,  Heidel- 
berg— anything  but  an  American  university.  His  guard- 
ians foolishly  let  him  have  his  way.  He  took  himself 
to  Europe,  ultimately  settled  in  Paris,  and  practically 
forgot  his  own  country,  and  became,  as  he  calls  himself  : 
Frangois  Leroy  Larchmont,  a  Franco-American. 

"  This  would  not  probably  have  weakened  his  character 
altogether,  for  there  are  strong  men  in  every  country, 
though  when  a  man  becomes  unpatriotic,  he  loses  his 
manhood  ;  but  with  Frank's  loss  of  Americanism,  came 
the  growth  of  a  pride  that  is  now,  I  am  sorry  to  sa}-, 
sometimes  seen  in  our  country — the  pride  of  the  '  do- 
nothing  '  ;  the  feeling  that  business  degrades.  With  that 
comes  worship  of  title  and  an  hereditary  aristocracy, 
armorial  bearings,  and  such  Old  World  rubbish." 

"  Why  !  I — I  thought  you  were  one  of  that  class  !  " 
ejaculates  Miss  Minturn,  her  eyes  big  with  astonishment. 

"  Oh  !  You  think  this  is  a  curious  diatribe  from  a  man 
who  has  been  called  one  of  the  Four  Hundred,  a  good 
many  of  whom  are  devotees  of  this  order,"  Mr.  Larch- 
mont mutters,  a  grim  smile  coming  over  his  features. 

"  Yes,  I — I  thought  you  were  a  butterfly  of  fashion  !  " 
stammers  the  girl. 

''  So  1  was — but  of  American  fashion  !  Now  I  am  a 
man  who  is  trying  to  save  his  brother  !  " 

"  From  what  ?  "  asks  Louise.  "  From  being  a  French- 
man ?  " 

"  No,  from  losing  his  fortune  and  his  honor  ! "  remarks 
Harry  so  gloomily  that  the  young  lady  looks  at  him  in 
silence. 

Then  he  goes  on  :  "  My  brother's  worship  of  title,  his 
petty  pride  to  be  thought  great  in  a  foreign  capital,  got 
him  into  the  Panama  Canal,  and  the  clutches  of  Baron 
Montez — God  knows  where  he  picked  up  the  title.  This 
man  became  my  brother's  bosom  friend,  as  he  became, 
twenty  odd  years  before,  the  bosom  friend  of  the  man 
whose  letter  1  hold  in  my  hand  I  " 

He  taps  the  epistle  of  George  Merritt  Ripley,  and  con- 
tinues :  ^'This  man  was  a  strong  man.  He  had  to  be 
killed  perchance,  to  secure  his  treasure.  My  brother, 
being  a  weak  one,  needed  only  flattery  and  persuasion." 
Then  looking  at  the  girl,  Harry's  tones  become  persua- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I39 

sive  ;  he  says  :  "  I  am  going  to  the  Isthmus  to  try  and 
save  my  brother's  fortune,  and  that  of  his  ward.  Miss 
Jessie  Severn,  out  of  which  they  have  been  swindled  by 
this  man,  who  probably  ruined  your  chances  in  life,  and 
made  you  struggle  for  livelihood  in  the  workroom  when 
you  should  have  aired  your  beauty  and  graces  in  a  ball- 
room. Will  you  aid  me  to  force  him  to  do  justice  to 
my  brother?  Your  very  position,  thank  God  !  will  help 
you  to  do  it  !  " 

But  here  surprise  and  shock  come  to  him.  His  refer- 
ence to  Miss  Severn  has  been  unfortunate. 

Miss  Minturn  says  slowly  :  "  My  position  ? — what  do 
you  mean  ? " 

*'  You  will  be  the  confidential  correspondent  of  his 
firm.  You  will  perhaps  discover  the  traps  by  which 
Montez  has  purloined  my  brother's  fortune." 

"Do  you  think,"  cries  the'girl,  "that  I  will  use  my 
confidential  position  against  my  employer  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  if  he  is  a  scoundrel  ?" 

"  That  is  not  my  code.  When  I  became  a  stenographer 
I  was  taught  that  the  confidential  nature  of  my  position 
in  honor  forced  upon  me  secrecy  and  silence  !  "  And 
growing  warm  with  her  subject.  Miss  Minturn  goes  on, 
haughtiness  in  her  voice,  and  disdain  in  her  eye  :  "And 
you  made  my  acquaintance — you  tried  to  gain  my  friend- 
ship, Mr.  Larchmont — to  ask  me  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens  !  I  never  thought  of  it  before  these 
letters  brought  home  this  man's  villany  to  you,  as  well  as 
to  me  !  "  gasps  Harry.  "  I  was  simply  coming  to  the 
Isthmus  to  fight  my  brother's  battle,  to  win  back  for 
him,  if  possible,  his  fortune  !  To  win  back  for  Miss 
Severn,  her  fortune  !  " 

"  And  for  that,"  interjects  the  young  lady,  "you  would 
make  me  do  a  dishonorable — yes,  a  series  of  dishonorable 
acts.  You  would  lure  me  to  act  the  part  of  Judas,  day 
by  day,  to  my  employer,  to  bring  to  you  each  evening  a 
record  of  each  day's  confidences  !  How  could  you  think 
I  was  base  enough  for  this  ?     How  could  you  ?  " 

Then  seizing  the  letters  that  have  brought  this  quarrel 
upon  them,  and  wiping  indignant  tears  from  her  eyes, 
she  whispers  with  pale  lips :  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Larch- 
mont !  " 

"  Good-by  ?  " 


14©  UARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Yes,  good-by  !  I  do  not  care  to  know  a  gentleman 
who  thinks  I  could  do  what  you  have  asked  me  !  " 

She  sweeps  away  from  him  to  her  own  stateroom, 
where  she  bursts  into  tears  ;  for,  curiously  enough,  it  is 
not  entirely  his  hurried,  perhaps  thoughtless  proposition, 
that  makes  her  miserable,  and  has  produced  her  parox- 
ysm of  wrath — it  is  the  idea  that  he  is  fighting  for  Miss 
Severn's  fortune.  "  He  loves  her,"  sobs  the  girl  to  her- 
self, "  and  for  that  reason  he  would  have  made  me  his 
tool  to  give  her  wealth." 

After  she  has  left  him,  Mr.  Larchmont  utters  a  pro- 
longed but  melancholy  whistle.  Then  he  suddenly  says  : 
"Who  can  divine  a  woman?  A  man,  thinking  he  had 
lost  a  fortune  through  this  villain  Montez,  would  have 
seized  my  hand,  and  become  my  comrade,  to  compel  the 
scoundrel  to  do  justice  to  us  both  !  But  she — "  Then  he 
meditates  again,  and  says  Slowly  :  "  I  wonder — was  there 
any  woman's  reason  for  this  ?  Her  eyes — her  beautiful 
eyes — had  some  subtle  emotion  in  them  that  was  not 
wholly  indignation.  They  looked  wounded — by  some- 
thing more  than  a  business  proposition  !  " 

Then  a  sudden  pallor  and  fright  come  upon  this  young 
Ajax,  as  he  falters  to  himself  :  "  Great  heavens  !  if  she 
never  forgives  me  !  " 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

LITTLE    PARIS. 

Neither  Harry  Larchmont  nor  Miss  Louise  Minturn 
make  their  appearance  at  lunch  this  afternoon  upon  the 
Colon. 

At  dinner,  only  monosyllables  pass  between  them, 
which  the  captain  noticing  whispers  into  Miss  Louise's 
pink  ear  to  make  it  red  :  '*  Didn't  I  tell  you  kisses  stop 
at  the  gang-plank  ?  " 

Just  here  the  sea-dog's  attention  is  fortunately  attracted 
by  what  is  happening  to  another  young  lady  under  his 
charge. 

Miss  Madeline  Stock  well,  the  pretty  girl  who  is  going 
to  California  to  be  married  to  the  Los  Angeles  orange- 
grower,  oblivious  of  the  vows  she  is  journeying  to  take, 


BARON    MONTEZ,  I4I 

has  been  indulging  in  a  flirtation  with  the  young  Costa 
Rican,  which  has  gradually  grown  from  mild  to  tempes- 
tuous ;  from  tepid  to  boiling  hot ! 

This  young  gentleman,  not  understanding  English  very- 
well,  has  failed  to  catch  what  has  been  generally  known 
about  the  ship,  of  this  young  lady's  engagement.  But 
now,  the  voyage  drawing  to  a  close,  some  one  has  been 
kind  enough  to  inform  him,  in  good  Spanish,  that  Miss 
Madeline,  who  has  entangled  him  in  the  silken  meshes  of 
love,  and  whose  bright  eyes  have  grown  to  be  very  beau- 
tiful to  him,  and  whom  he  has  had  wild  dreams  of  trans- 
porting, after  Church  ceremony  of  course,  to  his  coffee 
plantation  near  San  Jose,  is  already  promised  to  another  ! 

So  all  the  afternoon  Don  Diego  Alvarez  has  been 
going  about  with  a  Tibault  glare  in  his  eyes,  and  is  now 
eating  his  dinner  in  a  gloomy,  vindictive  manner,  cutting 
into  his  salad  as  he  would  into  the  orange  farmer's  throat, 
were  he  within  knife  reach. 

Soon  after,  all  go  on  deck. 

Here  is  his  opportunity.  He  steps  towards  the  pretty 
Madeline,  who  has  been  hiding  from  him  in  her  state- 
room most  of  the  day,  and  whispers  something  in  her  ear, 
at  which  she  turns  deathly  pale,  for  she  is  now  mortally 
frightened  at  this  demon  of  Spanish  love  that  she  has 
conjured  up,  and  that  will  not  down. 

Noting  this,  the  skipper,  laying  his  hand  on  Larch- 
mont's  shoulder,  whispers  to  him  :  "  Harry,  will  you  do 
me  a  favor  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  possible." 

"  Well,  here  is  a  matter  in  which  I  cannot  interfere 
unless  I  go  to  extreme  methods.  Young  Alvarez  is 
frightening  that  foolish  girl.  She  has  been  silly  enough 
to  encourage  him,  and  Spanish  blood,  when  encouraged 
and  then  jilted,  is  sometimes  obstreperous.  Now  you 
kindly  take  care  of  the  young  lady  this  evening.  To- 
morrow morning  we  will  be  at  Colon,  and  after  I  have 
landed  her,  pretty  Miss  Madeline  Stockwell  can  handle  a 
Spanish  flirtation  as  she  pleases.  Don't  leave  her  alone 
with  him — that's  a  good  fellow  !  " 

Now  Mr.  Harry  is  exactly  in  the  mood  for  something 
desperate  himself.  He  has  just  had  another  short  but  ex- 
citing tete-a-tete  with  Miss  Minturn,  in  a  little  dark  spot 
of  the  deck  that  the  rising  moon  has  not  yet  intruded  on. 


142  BARON    MONTEZ. 

*'  You  have  not  changed  your  mind  about  me,  I  see  ? " 
he  has  whispered,  noting  that  Louise's  eyes  are  still 
uncompromising  in  expression. 

*'  Certainly  not ;  about  your  proposition  !  " 

"  And  you  accuse  me  of  attempting  to  gain  your 
friendship  with  the  idea  of  making  it  ?  "  the  young  man 
has  asked  hotly. 

*'  It  would  seem  so.     Why  else  ?  " 

"  Why  else  ?  You  are  too  modest.  Don't  you  think," 
he  has  gone  on  warmly,  "  that  you  have  other  attractions 
than  being  the  stenographer  of  Baron  Montez  ?  Didn't 
I  treat  you  with  consideration  before  that  ?  Did  I  ask 
your  aid  until  those  accursed  letters  showed  me  that  you 
were  probably  his  victim  as  well  as  my  brother  and 
Jessie  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  it  is  for  Miss  Severn's  sake  that  you  ask  me  to 
do  a  thing  I  consider  dishonorable  ?  Learn  that  I  con- 
sider a  stenographer's  conscience  as  valuable  as  an  heir- 
ess's money  !  "  the  girl  has  muttered  very  haughtily,  for 
her  position  makes  her  over-sensitive.  "  Please  do  not 
speak  to  me  again  until  you  remember  it  also  !  " 

So  turning  away,  she  has  left  Larchmont  in  a  very  bad 
humor,  for  he  feels  he  is  badly  treated.  He  has  mut- 
tered to  himself  sarcastically  :  "  I  wonder  if  she  thinks  I 
saved  her  from  the  snow  that  night,  because  I  divined 
she  was  going  to  be  the  stenographer  of  Montez,  Aguilla 
et  Cie.  ?     She's  as  unjust  as  she  is  beautiful." 

Consequently  at  present  Harry  is  about  the  worst  per- 
son the  captain  could  have  chosen  to  pour  oil  upon  the 
troubled  waters  of  Miss  Madeline  Stockwell's  flirtation, 
although  he  accepts  the  office  with  alacrity.  He  whispers 
to  the  skipper  :  "  See  me  cut  the  Costa  Rican  out !  "  then 
proceeds  to  join  a  tete-a-tete  that  is  becoming  exciting  ; 
for  young  Alvarez  has  just  placed  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  and  said  with  a  rolling  of  the  eyes  :  "  Senorita, 
remember  it  is  his  life  or  my  own  !  Tell  that  to  your 
orange  rancher  !  " 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Madeline  !  "  interjects  Harry  ; 
and  is  very  effusively  received  by  the  girl,  who  would  be 
pleased  at  any  time  to  receive  attentions  from  this  eleve 
of  New  York  society,  but  at  this  moment  would  be 
happy  to  have  Old  Nick  himself  intrude  upon  her  inter- 
view with  Don  Diego. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I43 

It  is  a  little  trembling  hand  that  the  American  takes 
in  his  as  Miss  Stockwell  whispers  nervously  :  "  I — I  am 
delighted  to  see  you,  Mr.  Larchmont.  Permit  me  to 
present  Senor  Alvarez.  I — I  cannot  always  understand 
his  Spanish.     He  speaks  so  fast  and  ex — excitedly." 

"  Can't  understand  him,  eh  ?  "  says  Harry  ;  "  then 
permit  me  to  be  your  interpreter  ;  "  and  coolly  places  a 
Steamer-chair  between  the  young  Costa  Rican  and  his 
inamorata. 

Next  turning  upon  the  astonished  Don,  he  mutters 
rather  surlily  :  "  Supposing  you  say  to  me  what  you  were 
going  to  say  to  her." 

"  Say  to  you,  Americano,'  gasps  the  astounded  Al- 
varez, "  what  I  was  going  to  say  to  the  light  of  my  soul, 
the  Seiiorita  Madeline  ?  "  Then  looking  at  the  Ameri- 
can contemptuously,  he  says  :  "  Bah  !  you  do  not  inter- 
est me  !  " 

''  Don't  I  ?  "  replies  Harry  courteously.  "  Then  per- 
haps Miss  Maddy  will  be  kinder  to  me.  Don't  you 
think  a  promenade  this  pleasant  night  would  suit  you  ?  " 
and  he  offers  his  arm  to  flirtatious  Miss  Stockwell,  and 
takes  her  away,  leaving  the  Costa  Rican  grinding  his 
teeth  at  him,  for  Mr.  Larchmont  has  a  very  tender  manner 
with  pretty  girls,  and  Alvarez,  noting  his  devotion  to  the 
young  lady  in  the  moonlight,  includes  him  in  his  vendetta 
with  the  orange  farmer,  as  rival  number  two. 

Harry's  attentions  to  Miss  Stockwell  are  not  unob- 
served by  Miss  Minturn,  who  thinks  to  herself  :  *'  He  has 
not  succeeded  in  gaining  me  over  to  his  plans.  Therefore 
I  am  of  no  more  interest  to  him.  See  how  he  proves 
the  truth  of  what  I  accuse  him  !  "  This  feminine  logic 
makes  Louise's  heart  grow  very  hard  to  Harry  Larch- 
mont, as  he  paces  the  deck  of  the  Colon,  v/hispering  idle 
nothings  to  Miss  Madeline  Stockwell  ;  for  this  young 
lady  has  a  habit  of  thinking  all  men  in  love  with  her,  and 
rolls  her  eyes  most  affectionately  at  the  big  fashionable 
creature,  who  she  thinks  has  fallen  before  her  charms. 

So  Louise,  growing  desperate,  mutters  to  herself  :  "  If 
he  shows  indifference,  why  not  I  ?"  And  Herr  Alsatius 
Wernig  chancing  to  come  along,  she  receives  his  effusive 
attentions  with  a  great  deal  more  kindness  than  she  has 
hitherto  shown  to  him,  and  puts  him  in  the  seventh 
heaven  of  expectant  delight,  though  ever  and  anon  Mr. 


144  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Larchmont  turns  an  evil  eye  upon  her,  as  he  passes  her 
on  the  deck. 

Consequently  Miss  Louise  Minturn  and  Mr.  Harry 
Larchmont,  who  had  greeted  each  other  this  morning  so 
warmly,  go  to  bed  this  evening  with  bitter  feelings  in  their 
hearts  towards  each  other.  Not  the  bitterness  of  hate,  but 
the  bitterness  of  love,  which  is  sometimes  equally  potent, 
and  ofttimes  produces  as  unpleasant  results. 

As  for  Miss  Stockwell,  she  is  radiantly  happy.  She 
imagines  she  has  got  rid  of  one  flirtation  that  bothered 
her,  and  taken  up  another  that  she  thinks  will  not  bother 
her. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Larchmont,  after  packing  his 
baggage,  and  getting  in  general  order  for  going  ashore 
next  day  at  Colon,  sits  down  and  writes  a  letter,  giving 
to  it  one  or  two  sighs,  and  one  or  two  imprecations  ;  and 
just  before  going  to  bed,  remarks  :  ''So  far,  I  don't  think 
my  trip  to  Panama  has  been  a  success  !  "  for  this  very 
evening  he  has  added  another  enemy  to  his  list — Don 
Diego  Alvarez,  the  Costa  Rican. 

The  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  every  one  is  up, 
for  land  has  been  sighted  ! 

From  the  deck,  they  see  the  distant  Andes  of  South 
America. 

Then,  after  a  time,  from  out  its  mists,  they  can  dis- 
tinguish the  Tierras  Calientes,  that  rise,  a  mass  of  trop- 
ical verdure,  before  them  :  from  which,  wafted  by  breezes 
over  sparkling  waves,  are  the  odors  of  myriad  plants  and 
flowers.  For  what  has  been  blustering,  chilly  spring  in 
New  York,  is  now  early  summer  under  the  Equator. 

Then  churning  the  blue  waters,  the  great  ship  enters 
Navy  Bay,  and  before  them  lies  Manzinillo  Island,  on 
which  stands  the  town  of  Colon — a  mass  of  low  red  brick 
structures,  brightened  here  and  there  by  palm  trees  ; 
embellished  on  its  sea  side  by  a  number  of  parallel 
wharves  that  go  straight  into  the  bay,  lined  with  the  ship- 
ping of  all  nations. 

To  their  left  are  the  pretty  residences  of  the  officers 
of  the  canal,  on  the  Island  of  Christophe  Colon,  to  which 
a  causeway  has  been  filled  in,  at  great  expense,  by  the 
ever-lavish  Canal  Interoceanic. 

Then  the  steamer  running  into  her  dock,  ranges  along- 
side the  wharf,  and  ties  up  to  it. 


BARON    MONTEZ. 


45 


All  of  this  would  have  been  noted  with  a  good  deal  of 
interest  by  Miss  Minturn,  did  not  a  more  personal  mat- 
ter take  up  her  attention. 

In  the  last  moments  of  a  voyage,  just  before  landing, 
some  of  the  niceties  of  ship  etiquette  are  forgotten  ;  and 
taking  advantage  of  this,  a  pleasant-looking  round-faced 
woman,  very  neatly  dressed,  and  leading  by  the  hand  a 
pretty  child,  leaves  the  second  cabin,  and  coming  to  Miss 
Louise,  presents  a  letter  saying  :  "  Mr.  Larchmont 
asked  me  to  give  you  this." 

Looking  over  it,  the  girl  is  astonished  by  the  following  : 

Steamer  Colon,  March  30th,  188S. 
"Dear  Miss  Minturn  : 

*'  Though  you  may  consider  it  an  impertinence,  I  take  the  liberty 
of  making  this  suggestion  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  over  the 
position  in  which  you  will  be  placed — a  young  lady,  unknown,  and 
alone  in  a  foreign  city — Panama. 

"Of  course  the  firm  by  whom  you  arc  engaged,  and  Mr.  Stuart, 
will  do  ever}'thing  they  can  for  your  comfort  ;  but  still  perhaps  the 
matter  of  domicile  may  be  a  difficult  one  to  you.  You  should  have  a 
home  with  some  company  and  some  protection. 

"  Under  the  circumstances  I  venture  to  suggest  to  your  favorable 
consideration,  Mrs.  Silas  Winterburn.  She  has  rooms  and  board  in 
the  Spanish  family  of  an  old  notary  named  Martinez,  in  Panama — 
that  is,  when  she  is  not  with  her  husband,  who  is  stationed  with  his 
dredger  at  this  end  of  the  Canal. 

"  The  Martinez  family,  she  informs  me,  will  be  able  to  accommo- 
date you,  at  a  reasonable  figure.  Consequently  I  presume  to  men- 
tion this  to  you. 

"  Yours  most  respectfully, 

"  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont." 

Looking  at  these  words,  the  girl  sees  the  handwriting 
that  came  on  the  card  with  the  violets,  and  her  heart 
grows  softer  to  the  gentleman  whose  hand  has  penned 
this  note. 

She  says  to  the  woman  :  "  I  am  happy  to  meet  you, 
Mrs.  Winterburn.  Mr.  Larchmont  has  been  kind  enough 
to  mention  that  you  could  assist  me  in  obtaining  a 
domicile  in  Panama  ;  "  and  holds  out  a  welcoming  hand. 

This  is  cordially  gripped  by  the  woman,  who  replies  : 


146  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Thank  you  very  kindly  I  I  hope  you  will  come  with 
me.  It  will  be  so  nice  to  have  some  one  to  talk  to  in 
English.  The  other  time  I  was  there,  I  did  not  under- 
stand Spanish,  or  French,  and  it  was  so  lonely  ! " 

As  she  says  this,  the  steamer  is  at  the  wharf,  and  Louise 
finds  herself  face  to  face  with  a  kindly-looking  florid 
gentleman,  whom  the  captain  introduces  as  Mr.  Stuart 
of  the  Pacific  Mail,  and  to  whom  Miss  Minturn  presents 
her  letter  of  introduction. 

As  he  is  reading  it,  Mrs.  Silas  Winterburn  and  her 
pretty  child  have  been  hugged,  kissed,  and  hugged  again, 
by  a  peculiar-looking  man,  who  was  once  tall,  but  has 
apparently  been  shrivelled  by  the  sun  from  six  feet  one 
to  five  feet  ten. 

*'  Miss  Minturn,  this  is  my  husband  !  "  says  the  woman 
very  proudly. 

And  the  man  adds  :  "  By  Plymouth  Rock  and  Sanctus 
Dominus  !  I'm  almighty  glad  to  grip  such  a  pretty  girl 
by  the  hand." 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Winterburn  ?  **  remarks  Stuart 
cordially,  looking  at  the  mechanic. 

"  Quite  spryish,  governor,"  is  the  answer. 

Here  Miss  Minturn  takes  opportunity  of  explaining 
what  Mr.  Larchmont  had  suggested  in  the  letter. 

After  a  moment's  consideration,  Mr.  Stuart  says  :  **  I 
really  think  that  would  be  the  best  plan  for  you  in  Pan- 
ama. Of  course  I  shall  see  you  safely  on  board  the  cars, 
and  that  all  preparations  are  made  for  your  pleasant 
transport  across  the  Isthmus.  But  though  I  can  engage 
rooms  for  you  in  Panama,  by  telegraph,  I  do  not  think  for 
a  young  lady  situated  as  you  are,  they  will  be  as  pleasant 
as  those  in  the  family  of  old  Martinez,  the  notary,  where 
you  will  have  at  least  American  society  and  the  protection 
of  honest  Silas  Winterburn  and  his  wife." 

"  Oh,  everybody  knows  me,"  remarks  Silas,  "  from 
Colon  to  Panama,  and  from  the  Atrato  to  Chiriqui  !  I 
am  the  American  pioneer  of  the  Isthmus  !" 

"  The  pioneer  of  the  Isthmus  ? "  echoes  Louise, 
astonished. 

"Yes  !  Caramba!  I  beg  your  pardon  ! — I  beg  your 
pardon  !  I  sometimes  swear  in  Spanish  from  force  of 
habit.  I  was  a  fireman  on  the  first  through  train  on  the 
railway  in  '55." 


BARON     MONTEZ.  I47 

"  And  have  you  been  here  ever  since  ? " 

"  I've  buried  three  families  here,  of  yellow  fever,"  says 
the  man,  wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye.  Then  he  goes  on 
in  a  happier  voice  :  "  But  I've  got  started  with  number 
four  !  "  And  looking  with  loving  eyes  upon  his  wife, 
he  whispers  :  "  I  think  she'll  last  me  through.  The 
other  three  were  timid  things  from  factories  in  Mass'chu- 
^tts,  and  most  died  of  fright  at  the  thought  of  Yellow 
Jack  !  " 

This  is  said  in  a  manner  that  astonishes  Miss  Minturn, 
for  Silas  seems  to  suffer  agony  at  the  remembrance  of 
his  three  lost  families,  but  to  be  equally  happy  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  present  one. 

By  this  time  they  have  all  got  ashore,  Louise  noting 
that  Mr.  Larchmont  is  well  ahead  of  her,  and  already  in 
conversation  with  one  or  two  officers  of  the  Panama  Rail- 
road, who  chance  to  be  Americans  he  has  seen  in  New 
York.  This  young  man's  chief  object  now  seems  to 
be  to  make  acquaintance  with  everybody  on  the  Isthmus, 
and  apparently  he  is  succeeding. 

Then  genial  Mr.  Stuart  shows  his  pretty  charge  over 
the  town,  which  consists  chiefly* of  two  rows  of  houses 
and  stores  running  the  length  of  the  island,  with  the 
Panama  Railroad  shops  on  the  south  end  of  it,  and  the 
attachment  called  Christophe  Colon  at  the  north,  and  the 
canal,  which  is  the  Chagres  River  turned  from  its  course, 
running  past  it :  all  this  with  a  few  palm  and  cocoanut 
trees  thrown  in,  a  mangrove  swamp  behind  it,  and  a  series 
of  wharves  in  front  of  it  that  run  out  into  the  blue 
waves  and  soft  surf  which  ripples  upon  a  beach  of  coral 
sand. 

Half  an  hour  of  this  is  sufficient  ;  then  Mr.  Stuart  puts 
Louise  on  the  train  beside  Mrs.  Winterburn,  the  happy 
Silas  and  his  little  daughter  occupying  the  opposite  seat. 
The  cars  are  crowded  by  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  foreign- 
ers. The  bulk  of  the  conversation  however  is  French, 
for  this  canal  with  its  thousand  officers  and  m5Tiad 
laborers  in  1888,  had  made  the  Isthmus  from  Colon  to 
Panama  practically  a  French  colony. 

Mr.  Larchmont  is  not  on  the  car  in  which  Miss  Minturn 
is  seated.  Therefore  she  does  not  speak  to  him,  though 
she  would  have  liked  to  ;  for  she  is  beginning  to  repent 
of  her  hasty  expressions  towards  him,  which   had  been 


148  BARON    MONTEZ. 

caused  not  only  by  his  proposition,  but  by  Miss  Severn's 
connection  with  it. 

She  is  even  now  thinking,  "  His  letter  this  morning 
brought  me  protection,  when  1  had  treated  him  harshly. 
He  has  done  mc  7na7iy  kindnesses  ;  and  1  have  refused 
to  do  him  one  !  I  don't  think  1  could  ever  bring  myself  to 
his  proposition,  still  1  forgive  him  for  making  it.  Yes- 
terday, jealousy  made  me  cruel  !  " 

Then  she  mutters  to  herself  :  "  Jealousy  !  Pshaw  !  I 
am  not  jealous  !  Whom  am  I  jealous  of  ? "  And  glares 
around  as  if  to  find  out  the  person  on  the  train,  but 
only  catches  the  eye  of  Mr.  Winterburn. 

This  eccentric  says:  "What's  the  matter,  sissy?  Are 
you  looking  for  a  beau  ?  There's  plenty  here.  Por  Dios  / 
I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  swear.  Most  every  one's  un- 
married about  here.  By  all  the  saints  in  the  Cathedral  ! 
bachelors  and  widowers  predominate." 

"You — you  seem  to  be  very  well  acquainted  with  the 
Isthmus,  Mr.  Winterburn,"  stammers  the  girl,  throwing 
off  meditation.     "  You  say  you  are  a  pioneer  .^  " 

"Yes,  had  the  fever  in  1856  and  got  acclimated.  Since 
then  I  have  found  it  as  healthy  as  the  Penobscot  — for 
me  !  Other  people  sicken  and  die,  but  I  thrive.  I  reck- 
on, when  we  were  building  this  railroad,  we  planted  a  man 
for  every  tie.  Now  I  think  the  Canal  is  even  beatin'  our 
average." 

This  eulogium  upon  the  climate  of  the  Isthmus  gives 
Louise  a  shiver  ;  she  turns  the  conversation  by  suggest- 
ing :  "  You  must  have  seen  many  curious  things  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  everything  from  revolution  and  riot,  to  balls  and 
fandangos." 

"  Revolution  and  riot  !  "  says  the  girl,  and  is  about  to 
ask  him  something  eagerly,  when  glancing  out  of  the 
car  window  she  suddenly  ejaculates  :  "How  beautiful  ! 
How  fairylike  I  " 

For  the  train  has  run  out  of  Colon,  and  leaving  the 
island,  is  dashing  through  the  swamps  of  the  Mindee 
that  are  fairylike  in  beauty,  but  awful  in  miasma  and 
death. 

So  they  come  to  the  mainland  with  its  rank  vegeta- 
tion, in  which  are  trees  of  a  myriad  species,  flowers  of  a 
thousand  hues,  vines  and  creeping  plants,  each  different 
from  the  other,  making  a  thicket  that  is  a  garden. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I49 

So  passing  Monkey  Hill,  they  reach  Gatun,  getting 
here  a  first  glimpse  of  the  main  Chagres  ;  and  turning 
up  its  valley,  the  cars  run  under  great  lignum  vitse  trees 
covered  with  parasites,  and  palms  of  every  species,  from 
the  giant  grands  to  those  of  smaller  stem  and  more 
feathery  leaves. 

Every  now  and  then,  they  pass  a  little  native  rancho 
,\yith  its  thatched  roof,  and  inevitable  banana  plantation. 
These  are  varied  by  occasional  orange  groves,  and  now 
and  then  a  glimpse  of  the  Chagres  River,  quiet  and 
limpid  in  this  the  drv  season,  and  rippling  peaceably 
between  banks  of  living  green  to  the  Caribbean.  It  is 
now  disturbed,  here  and  there,  by  the  huge  dredgers  of 
the  American  Company — great  masses  of  machinery  that 
scrape  the  mud  of  the  river  from  its  bottom,  to  build  up 
side  walls  to  protect  its  banks. 

"  It  is  one  of  them  fellows  that  I  work  on  as  engineer. 
Miss  Minturn,"  says  VVinterburn,  looking  up  from  his 
little  daughter,  who  has  grown  tired,  and  is  sleeping  con- 
tentedly in  his  lap. 

Now  and  again  they  get  glimpses  of  trading  stations 
for  canal  laborers,  some  of  them  kept  by  Chinamen,  till 
finally  they  arrive  at  Bohio  Soldado. 

''  That's  my  place  of  residence  !  "  ejaculates  Silas,  who 
has  now  become  communicative.  "  But  I've  three  days 
leave,  and  so  I'll  see  you  and  the  old  lady  through  to 
Panama.  Do  you  note  that  p'int  ?  "  he  says,  after  twenty 
minutes  more  travel,  "  that's  the  head  of  the  dredging, 
and  from  there  on,  the  Canal  Company  tackles  not  mud, 
but  rocks.  And  rocks,"  here  he  whispers  to  the  girl,  a 
curious  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  is  what'll  down  'em  1 " 

And  then  passing  the  great  bridge  over  the  river  at  Bar- 
bacoas  they  run  up  the  other  bank  to  Gargona,  and  from 
that  on,  by  gradually  increasing  grades,  come  to  Culebra, 
where  the  Canal  people  have  their  deepest  cut  to  make. 

"  Oh,  goodness  !  "  cries  the  girl,  "  what  an  enormous 
excavation  !  " 

"  It's  the  biggest  in  the  world,"  answers  Silas.  Then 
he  whispers  confidentially,  "  But  there  is  five  times  as 
much  more  to  dig." 

"  Why,"  cries  Louise,  *'  they'll  never  do  it !  " 

"  Not  this  trip  !  Por  la  Madre  !  assents  Winterburn 
solemnly. 


150  BARON    MONTEZ. 

But  Other  views  drive  Culebra  from  the  girl's  mind. 
They  are  descending  the  mountain  ;  before  them  the 
great  savanna  that  leads  to  Panama,  and  the  white  waters 
of  the  Pacific.  Running  down  through  hills  that  grad- 
ually become  smaller,  they  come  to  the  Rio  Grande 
station,  and  first  see  the  river  that  is  to  be  the  western 
waters  of  the  canal. 

From  there  on,  dashing  over  savannas  ever  green,  they 
note  at  their  right  hand,  some  gray  buildings  on  a  hill. 

"  That's  the  Canal  yellow-fever  hospitals,  where  the 
poor  critters  will  get  a  little  breeze,"  says  Silas,  eager 
to  do  the  honors  of  the  Isthmus. 

But  leaving  these,  three  miles  away  they  run  into  a 
little  station  where  carriages  with  native  drivers  are 
waiting  for  them,  to  drag  them  through  dirty  lanes  into 
the  town  of  Panama  itself. 

This  is  now  a  little  Paris.  French  people  jabber  about 
them  at  the  station,  and  the  language  of  Normandy  and 
Brittany  dominates  the  Spanish  tongue  ;  iov/a  belle  France 
has  come  over  the  Isthmus  to  capture  Panama. 

Twice  before  this  has  been  attempted.  Twice  with 
success  !  Once  Morgan  and  his  daring  band  of  every- 
nation  freebooters  came  up  the  Chagres,  and  conquer- 
ing, bore  away  with  them  the  treasures  of  the  western 
ocean.  Then  American  enterprise  fought  its  way  with 
iron  rail  through  the  swamps  of  the  Mindee,  and  up  the 
valley  of  the  Chagres,  and  through  the  gate  of  the 
mountains,  and  reached  this  town,  to  take  its  tribute  from 
the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  pay  to  stockholders  the 
dividends  of  Dives. 

And  now  comes  France — not  to  cross  the  Isthmus,  but 
to  drive  through  it,  and  thus  levy  toll  upon  the  navies  of 
the  sea  ! 

The  Isthmus,  subdued  twice,  will  it  be  conquered  again  ? 
Nature — the  awful  giant  nature  of  the  tropics — will  it 
triumph  ?  Will  this  land  go  back  to  nature,  and  become 
silent  as  when  the  Spanish  Co?iquestadores  first  landed  on 
its  shores  to  make  the  Indians  curse  the  white  sails  which 
bore  to  them  a  Christianity  that  came  with  blood  and 
bigotry,  to  make  them  slaves  ? 


BOOK    IV. 
The  Struggle  in  Panama. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

winterburn's  museum. 

Striking  a  bargain  with  a  mulatto  charioteer,  half  in 
the  English  tongue,  half  in  Spanish,  Winterburn  pro- 
cures a  carriage,  and  the  party  take  route  up  the  lane 
leading  from  the  railway  station  ;  and  passing  into  the  old 
town  of  Panama,  between  houses  whose  balconies  come 
very  close  together,  they  reach  the  Calle  del  Catedral  or 
Main  Street. 

A  moment  after,  Miss  Minturn  gives  an  exclamation 
of  pleasure,  for  they  have  come  out  en  the  great  plaza 
of  the  town,  and  the  sunshine  is  upon  it,  making  it  look 
very  bright  and  pleasant  compared  to  the  dark  streets 
through  which  they  have  passed. 

They  drive  along  this,  past  a  little  cafe,  with  seats  and 
tables  on  the  sidewalk,  after  the  manner  of  Paris,  and 
then  in  front  of  the  old  Grand  Hotel — the  one  in  which 
Montez  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Franco- Ameri- 
can. This  is  now  devoted  to  the  offices  of  the  Panama 
Canal  Company — the  upper  floors  being  used  for  busi- 
ness purposes,  and  the  lower  one  being  turned  into  a 
general  club  full  of  billiard-tables  for  the  use  of  its  em- 
ployees ;  all  lavishly  paid  for  by  the  money  of  the  stock- 
holders. 

Then  they  come  to  another  cafe  or  restaurant,  more 
elaborate  than  the  first,  whose  tables  and  chairs  are  upon 
the  sidewalk  like  those  of  the  grand  Boulevard  cafes  in 
far-off  Paris.     Turning  the  corner,  across  the  Plaza  with 


152  BARON    MONTEZ. 

its  walks  and  tropic  plants,  the  girl  sees  the  great  Cathe- 
dral of  Panama,  old  with  the  dust  of  centuries.  But  this 
is  distant  and  ancient ;  and  the  Grand  Central  Hotel  and 
a  lot  of  offices  are  near  her  and  modern. 

At  the  old  Club  International,  they  turn  away  from  the 
Plaza  and  go  towards  the  sea  wall  and  the  '  Battery  ; ' 
and  after  passing  through  more  narrow  streets  with  over- 
hanging verandas,  they  come  to  the  house  of  the  notary, 
Martinez. 

Here  Mrs.  Winterburn  is  received  in  voluble  Spanish, 
by  the  wife  of  the  official,  a  Creole  lady  of  about  thirty- 
five,  but  looking  much  older,  and  her  numerous  pro- 
geny ;  all  of  them  daughters,  ranging  from  twenty-two 
to  fourteen,  and  all  of  them,  in  this  rapid  sunny  part  of 
the  world,  of  marriageable  age. 

Louise's  Spanish  soon  makes  them  her  friends,  and  she 
finds  herself  settled  very  comfortably  in  a  room  that 
looks  out  over  a  wide  veranda  on  a  little /^//d?,  or  enclosed 
courtyard,  around  which  the  house  is  built.  This  court- 
yard has  a  few  plants  and  flowers,  in  contradistinction 
to  most  of  the  Fa.na.ma.  pa fios,  whose  inhabitants  are  too 
lazy  to  put  into  the  earth  anything  that  merely  beautifies, 
though  the  land  only  requires  planting  to  blossom  like 
Sharon's  Vale.  Her  apartment  is  up  one  flight  of  stairs, 
for  there  are  stores  underneath,  and  the  family,  as  in 
most  of  the  Spanish  portions  of  Panama,  live  over 
them. 

.  Inspection  discloses  to  Miss  Minturn  that  she  has  a 
clean  room,  with  whitewashed  walls  and  matting  upon 
the  floor  ;  a  white-sheeted  bed,  and  a  few  other  articles 
of  furniture  that  are  comfortable,  though  not  luxurious. 
At  one  end  of  her  room  swings  a  hammock. 

'^  Hammock,  or  bed !  You  can  take  your  choice,  senor- 
ita  !  "  laughs  the  old  Spanish  lady.  "  But  if  you  take  my 
advice,  you  will  choose  the  hammock — it's  cooler  !  "  and 
leaves  her  alone. 

Then  Louise  looking  around,  finds  there  is  a  veranda 
overhanging  the  street,  to  which  a  door  leads  directly 
from  her  room.  With  this  open  there  is  a  very  good 
draught,  which  is  pleasant,  as  it  is  now  the  sultry  portion 
of  the  afternoon. 

Soon  her  trunk,  which  has  been  attended  to  by  kindly 
old  Winterburn,  arrives,  and  the  girl  unpacking  it,  makes 


BARON    MONTEZ.  153 

her  preparations  for  permanent  stay,  and  looking  out  on 
the  prospect,  thinks :  "  How  different  this  is  to  Seven- 
teenth Street  in  New  York  !  "  Then  she  murmurs:  "  How 
quiet !  and  this  for  a  whole  year  !  "  and  sadness  would 
come  upon  her  ;  but  she  remembers  there  are  Anglo- 
Saxon  friends  in  the  house  with  her.  She  thinks,  "Were 
it  not  for  his  thoughtfulness  I  should  be  alone  and  home- 
sick. And  I  was  unkind  to  him — not  because  of  his 
proposition,  but  because  " — then  cries — "  I  hate  her  any- 
way !  " 

After  this  spurt  of  emotion,  being  tired  with  the  rail- 
road trip,  and  worried  over  Mr.  Larchmont,  Louise  thinks 
she  will  take,  after  the  manner  of  the  Spanish,  a  siesta 
and  forget  everything  ;  and  climbs  into  her  hammock. 

Being  unused  to  this  swinging  bedstead,  she  gives 
a  sudden  shriek,  for  she  finds  herself  grovelling  on  the 
floor  ;  the  management  of  this  comfort  of  the  tropics  not 
being  an  accomplishment  that  is  acquired  in  one  siesta. 

But  the  heat  will  not  let  her  sleep,  so  she  goes  into  a 
day-dream,  from  which  she  is  aroused  by  one  of  the 
young  ladies  of  the  household  coming  in,  and  crying  : 
"  Senorita  Luisa,  I  have  brought  you  some  cigarettes  !  " 

"  For  me  ?  I  never  smoke  !  "  laughs  the  American  girl, 
partly  in  dismay,  partly  in  astonishment. 

''•  Not  smoke  ? — and  you  speak  Spanish  !  "  says  the 
Isthmus  maiden  in  supreme  surprise.  "Let  me  teach 
you  !  " 

She  lights  up,  and  lolls  upon  the  bedstead,  telling  the 
young  American  lady,  to  whom  she  seems  to  have  taken 
a  great  fancy,  that  her  name  is  Isabel,  but  all  who  love 
her  call  her  Belita,  giving  out  incidentally  ihe,  petite  gossip 
of  Panama,  between  deft  puffs  of  smoke  that  rise  in 
graceful  rings  about  her. 

Louise  sits  looking  at  her  dreamily,  thinking  that  Pan- 
ama is  a  very  quaint  and  quiet  place,  as  it  is  to  her,  this 
afternoon. 

Mr.  Larchmont's  experiences,  however,  are  different. 
He  drives  into  the  town  over  much  the  same  road  as  the 
Winterburns  have  taken,  but  stops  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
and  would  engage  a  suite  of  apartments  of  most  extraor- 
dinary extent  and  price  for  a  man  depending  upon  the 
salary  of  a  clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company, 
or  any  other  clerk  for  that  matter,  except,  perhaps,  some 


154  BARON    MONTEZ. 

of  the  Canal  Company,  who  are  paid  most  extravagant 
prices  ;  but  suddenly  Harry  remembers  he  is  supposed 
only  to  have  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month  for 
his  stipend,  grows  economical,  and  chooses  quarters  that 
do  not  please  him  and  make  him  swear — this  luxurious 
young  man. 

Then  having  made  himself  as  comfortable  as  the  heat 
will  permit,  attired  in  the  whitest  linen,  and  a  wide-brimmed 
sombrero  de  Guayaquil,  which  he  has  purchased  in  the 
French  bazaar  as  he  drove  into  town,  Harry  Larchmont 
steps  out  to  see  the  sights  of  this  arena  upon  which  he  has 
come  two  thousand  miles,  like  a  knight  of  old,  to  do  battle 
for  a  young  maiden,  against  the  giant  who  has  her  in  his 
toils. 

Like  Amadis  de  Gaul  and  Saint  George  of  Merry 
England,  on  his  journeying  he  has  found  another  Queen 
of  Beauty  to  look  upon  the  combat ;  and  though  her  place 
is  not  on  the  imperial  dais,  and  under  its  velvet  canopy, 
still  one  smile  from  her  would  make  his  arm  more  potent, 
his  sword  more  trenchant,  his  charge  more  irresistible, 
and  nerve  him  to  greater  deeds  of  "daring  do,"  than 
those  of  the  maiden  for  whom  he  battles,  or  those  of  any 
other  maid  in  Christendom. 

So  with  chivalry  in  his  heart,  and  a  great  wish  to  strike 
down  Baron  Montez,  the  evil  champion  opposed  to  him, 
though  scarcely  knowing  where  to  find  rent  in  his  armor 
of  proof.  Sir  Harry  of  Manhattan  steps  out  upon  the 
Plaza  de  Panama,  to  see  a  pretty  but  curious  sight. 

A  Spanish  town  turned  into  a  French  one  ! 

Not  some  quaint  old  village  of  Brittany,  or  Normandy, 
but  a  bright,  dashing,  happy-go-lucky,  '-^  Mon  Dieu  T' 
Can-can,  French  town  !  In  fact,  a  little  part  of  gay  Paris 
transferred  to  the  shores  of  the  Pacific.  A  modern 
French  picture  in  an  old  Spanish  frame. 

As  he  leaves  the  hotel,  the  Cafe  Bethancourt,  just  across 
the  street,  is  filling  up  with  young  Frenchmen  arrayed 
very  much  as  they  would  be  on  the  Champs  Elyse'es  or 
Boulevard  des  Italiens,  They  have  come  in,  as  they 
would  in  la  belle  Paris,  to  drink  their  afternoon  absinthe. 

Open  carriages,  barouches,  landaus,  are  carrying  the 
magnates  of  the  Canal  management,  with  their  wives  and 
their  children — or  perhaps  some,one  else — about  the  Plaza 
preparatory  to  their  drive  to  the  Savanna  ;  which,  unheed- 


BARON    MONTEZ. 


155 


ing  the  mists  of  the  evening,  they  will  take  as  they  would 
in  the  Bois  du  Boulogne,  though  the  miasma  of  one  breeds 
death,  and  the  breezes  of  the  other  bring  life. 

All  this  looks  very  pretty  to  the  gentleman  as  he  strolls 
through  the  Plaza,  between  green  plants  and  over  smooth 
walks,  and  notes  that  about  this  great  square  none  of 
the  surrounding  buildings,  save  the  great  Cathedral  and 
tlw  Bishop's  Palace,  have  now  the  air  of  old  Spain.  The 
rest  have  become  modern  Parisian  cafe's,  offices,  hotels, 
bazaars,  or  magazins. 

After  a  few  moments'  contemplation  of  this,  the  young 
man  says  to  himself  :  "  But  I  came  here  for  work  ! 
To  discover  the  weak  spots  in  this  villain's  armor,  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  know  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
him,  those  who  have  business  with  him  ;  in  fact,  the  world 
of  Panania  !  And  to  become  acquainted  with  these  novel 
surroundings,  first  my  letters  of  introduction." 

So  he  starts  off,  and  after  a  few  inquiries,  finds  the  of- 
fice of  the  American  Consul  General,  which  is  just  oppo- 
site the  Bishop's  Palace,  in  the  Calle  de  Co??ierdo. 

Fortunately  this  dignitary  is  at  home,  and  Harry,  pre- 
senting his  credentials,  is  most  affably  received,  for  his 
letters  bear  very  strong  names  both  socially  and  politi- 
cally, in  the  United  States. 

''  I'll  put  you  up  at  the  Club  International  imme- 
diately," says  the  official.  "  There  you  will  meet  every- 
body !  Supposing  }ou  drop  in  there  with  me  this 
evening  ? " 

"  Delighted  !  "  returns  Harry,  "  provided  you  will  dine 
with  me  first — where  do  they  give  the  best  dinners  ?  " 

''  Oh,  Bethancourt's  as  good  as  any." 

"  Well,  dine  with  me  there,  will  you  ?  Half-past  seven, 
I  suppose  '11  be  about  the  hour." 

"  With  pleasure,"  answers  the  representative  of  Amer- 
ica. And  Mr.  Larchmont,  noting  the  official  has  business 
on  his  hands,  leaves  him  and  saunters  off  to  kill  time  till 
the  dinner  hour,  curiously  enough  asking  the  way  to  the 
house  of  Martinez  the  notary,  but  contenting  himself 
with  walking  past  and  giving  a  searching  glance  at  its 
windows,  though  he  does  not  go  in. 

Then  he  strolls  back  to  the  hotel  to  dress,  and  being 
joined  by  the  consul  the  two  go  to  the  swell  cafe  of  Pan- 
ama, where  Mr.   Larchmont  gives  the  representative  of 


156  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Uncle  Sam  a  dinner  that  makes  him  open  his  eyes  and 
sets  him  to  thinking,  "  What  wondrous  clerk  has  the 
Pacific  Mail  Company  got,  who  spends  half  a  month's  sal- 
ary upon  a  tf'te-a-tete  and  that  to  a  gentleman  ?  Egad,  I'd 
like  to  see  this  young  Lucullus  entertain  ladies  ! "  a  wish 
this  gentleman  has  granted  within  the  next  few  days,  in  a 
manner  that  makes  him  and  the  whole  town  of  Panama 
open  their  eyes ;  for  Harry  suddenly  goes  to  playing 
a  game  at  which  he  cannot  be  economical. 

This  comes  about  in  this  manner.  Larchmont  and  his 
new  friend  are  enjoying  their  coffee,  seated  at  one  of  the 
tables  outside  ;  scraps  of  conversation  coming  to  them 
from  surrounding  tables. 

The  one  next  to  them  is  occupied  by  two  excitable 
and  high-voiced  Frenchmen,  one  an  habitud  oi  the  Isth- 
mus ;  the  other  a  later  arrival. 

"  I  wish,"  says  the  new-comer,  "  that  I  could  get  some 
definite  word  out  of  Aguilla  about  their  contract  with 
me.  But  he  puts  me  off,  saying  that  Montez  when  he 
arrives  will  attend  to  it.  Now  Baron  Fernando  likes  the 
great  Paris  better  than  the  little  one.  He  has  not  been 
here  for  a  year.  I  am  waiting  two  months,  and  I'm 
rather  fatigued  ! " 

"  You  won't  have  to  wait  much  longer,"  laughs  his 
companion,  the  Panama  habitue.  "  Baron  Fernando  will 
shortly  arrive." 

"  Ah,  has  his  partner  told  you  ?  " 
,    "  No,  Aguilla  never  says  anything." 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  ?  " 

*'  How  ?  "  says  the  old  resident,  with  a  wisely  wicked^ 
smile.  "  By  that  !  "  and  he  points  to  a  placard  hanging 
on  a  wall  near  by.  Following  his  glance  Harry  Larch- 
mont sees  that  it  announces  that  Mademoiselle  Bebe  de 
Champs  Elysees  of  the  Palais  Royal,  Paris,  will  shortly 
make  her  appearance  at  the  Panama  Theatre. 

"  When  Mademoiselle  Bebe  is  announced,  Baron  Mon- 
tez very  shortly  afterwards  steps  on  the  stage,"  con- 
tinues the  gentleman  at  the  table. 

"Ah,  she  is  a  friend  of  his  ? "  queries  the  other. 

^' Sans  doute!  So  much  of  a  friend  that  she  never 
comes  here  without  her  cher  ami^  Baron  Montez,  arriving 
very  shortly  after  her." 

'*You   seem  interested  in   the  conversation    next    us, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  157 

Larchmont,"  whispers  the  consul.  "  Do  you  know  the 
famed  Baron  Montez  ?  " 

''  A  little  ! "  answers  Harry  abstractedly,  for  he  has 
just  thought  what  he  thinks  a  great  thought,  and  is 
pleased  with  himself. 

It  is  something  after  this  style  :  "  Perhaps  here  is  a 
flaw  in  my  enemy's  armor  of  proof.  Perchance  Made- 
mpiselle  Bebe  de  Champs  Elysees  has  the  confidences  of 
her  c/ier  ami  my  adversary.  Mayhap  from  her  I  can 
gain  some  knowledge  that  may  give  me  vantage  over 
him  !  "  Then  he  laughs  to  himself  quite  merrily.  "  By 
Jove  !  what  great  friends  Mademoiselle  Bebe  and  I  shall 
be!" 

With  this  rather  unknightly  idea  in  his  mind,  the 
young  gentleman  proceeds  to  pump  the  consul  and 
everyone  else  he  meets  this  evening,  about  the  coming 
dramatic  star  at  the  Panama  Theatre,  and  very  shortly 
discovers  that  De  Champs  Elysees  is  a  young  lady,  who, 
though  she  is  by  no  means  prominent  on  the  Parisian 
boards,  is  considered  a  great  card  in  Panama. 

This  has  been  chiefly  owing  to  the  push  that  has  been 
given  to  her  artistic  celebrity  by  the  devotion  of  Baron 
Fernando,  who  has  lavished  a  good  deal  of  money  and  a 
good  deal  of  time  upon  this  fair  e'leve  of  the  cafes  chan- 
tants  and  the  Palais  Royal. 

After  a  little,  anxious  to  learn  more  about  her,  Harry 
proposes  to  his  guest  that  they  drop  into  the  theatre. 
So  they  saunter  to  the  temple  of  Thespis  where  a  Spanish 
opera  company  that  has  come  up  from  Peru  is  giving 
"  High  Life  in  Madrid,"  which  is  so  much  like  high  life 
in  Paris  embellished  by  the  chachucha  and  fandango 
instead  of  the  can-can,  that  it  greatly  pleases  the  mixed 
French  and  Spanish  audience. 

Though  every  one  else  is  interested  in  the  perform- 
ance, Mr.  Larchmont  is  not.  He  is  devoting  himself  to 
discovering  all  about  the  attraction  that  is  to  follow  it. 
Getting  acquainted  with  one  of  the  attaches  of  the  theatre, 
he  learns  that  Mademoiselle  Bebe  de  Champs  Elysees  will 
arrive  within  a  day  or  two,  and  appear  probably  the  next 
Monday.  That  she  is  not  a  very  great  singer  ;  that  she 
is  not  a  very  great  actress  ;  that  she  is  not  a  very  great 
dancer  ;  but  that  she  is  "  a  very  diable,''  as  the  old  door- 
keeper expresses  it. 


158  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  However,  Monsieur  is  youn.2:,  handsome,  and  I  hope 
rich.  So  he  can  soon  see  for  himself,"  suggests  the  old 
man  with  a  French  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

The  opera  over,  Harry  and  the  American  official  go  to 
the  Club  International,  which  has  been  moved  from  its 
former  quarters  on  the  Grand  Plaza,  to  a  house  called 
*'  The  Washington,"  somewhat  nearer  the  railroad,  and 
in  the  old  Spanish  quarter.  Here  they  find  some  billiard- 
playing,  some  chess,  and  lots  of  Frenchmen,  Spaniards, 
and  in  fact  a  good  deal  of  the  male  high  life  of  Panama. 

Mr.  Larchmont  is  introduced  right  and  left,  and  being 
anxious  to  make  friends^  soon  has  lots  of  acquaintances^ 
for  his  off-hand  manner  wins  everybody.  AH  that  he 
learns  here,  using  both  tongue  and  ears  with  all  their 
might,  satisfies  him  on  one  point,  and  that  is,  that  Made- 
moiselle Bebe  de  Champs  Elysees  will  know  the  secret 
thoughts  of  Baron  Fernando  Montez,  if  any  one  does. 

So  he  chuckles  to  himself  :  "  I'll  nail  this  scoundrel 
Samson  of  Panama  by  this  naughty  Delilah  of  Paris  !  " 
and  considers  himself  a  very  great  diplomat,  and  a  won- 
derful card-player  in  the  game  of  life,  as  he  goes  to  bed 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  which  is  a  rather  bad 
time  for  an  industrious  clerk  to  retire  to  rest,  if  he  wishes 
to  be  at  his  duties  in  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Com- 
pany's offices  early  the  next  morning. 

But  even  as  Harry  turns  into  bed,  he  mutters  :  "  If  she 
had  been  kinder,  I  should  not  have  done  this  thing  !  " 

Still,  notwithstanding  his  buoyant  nature  that  considers 
half  the  battle  won,  this  young  gentleman,  as  he  closes 
his  eyes,  gives  half  a  sigh,  and  wonders  what  has  been 
lacking  in  his  life  this  day ;  then  suddenly  becomes  wide 
awake,  as  he  mutters  :  "  By  Jove  !  I  have  not  seen  her 
face— I  have  not  looked  into  her  eyes — or  heard  her 
voice  for  twenty-four  hours  !  " 

Next  grows  angry  and  indignant  and  cries  out :  "  Hang 
it !  I  will  go  to  sleep.  No  woman  shall  keep  me 
awake  ! " 

But  notwithstanding  this  determination,  he  tosses 
about  on  a  sleepless  bed  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  wonders 
if  it  is  the  mosquitoes  of  Little  Paris. 

As  for  the  object  of  his  thoughts,  she  has  passed  a 
quiet  evening  with  the  VVinterburns,  and  the  family  of 
old  Martinez,  who  has  lived  a  longtime  upon  the  Isthmus, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 59 

and  tells  her  anecdotes  of  the  earlier  days  of  Panama, 
before  it  became,  as  he  calls  it,  "  a  French  colony." 

Some  of  his  daughters  are  musical,  and  Louise  and 
they  sing  snatches  of  the  old  operas  together,  in  duos, 
trios,  and  quartettes,  to  the  accompaniment  of  mandolin 
and  guitar  ;  music  which  seems  in  keeping  with  the 
tropic  evening  and  quiet  of  this  Spanish  portion  of 
.Panama,  which  is  half  deserted  after  nightfall. 

Winterburn  breaks  in  after  each  selection  with  a  quaint 
mixture  of  American  applause  and  Spanish  bravos,  some- 
times saying  with  a  sigh  :  '*  To-morrow  I'll  have  to  be 
going  off  to  work  on  my  Chagres  dredger  again  at  Bohio 
Soldado." 

"  You  have  lived  on  the  Isthmus  a  long  time,"  remarks 
Miss  Louise.     "  I  suppose  now  you're  used  to  it." 

"  Well,  yes,  pretty  well.  I've  been  on  it  so  long  that  I 
know  everything  about  it." 

Then  he  astonishes  the  girl,  by  ejaculating  suddenly  ; 
"  Would  you  like  to  see  my  museum  ?" 

"  Your  what  ?  "  asks  Louise. 

"  My  collection  of  curiosities.  I've  got  most  enough 
to  run  a  dime  show,  in  the  U.  S.  Just  let  me  add  a  couple 
of  San  Bias  Indians,  a  live  crocodile,  an  anaconda,  and 
throw  in  a  Spanish  dancing  girl,  and  the  pen  with  which 
De  Lesseps  signs  Panama  bonds,  and  diablo  I  I  will  do  a 
fine  business  on  the  Bowery  !  " 

"  The  Bowery  !  "  says  his  wife.  "  Why,  Silas,  have 
you  ever  seen  the  Bowery  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  saw  it  on  my  third  wedding  tour,  ten  years 
ago,"  he  remarks  contemplatively.  "  Sally — she  was  the 
one  before  you — was  very  much  taken  with  it  also.  I'll 
give  you  a  show  at  it,  too,  Susie,  some  day." 

On  this  cheering  remark  Miss  Minturn  breaks  in,  say- 
ing:  "The  museum,  quick  !  " 

"  Then  I'll  accommodate  !  "  replies  Silas  genially.  "  I 
always  like  to  accommodate  pretty  girls,  even  when 
they're  thick  as  candles  in  a  cathedral,  as  they  are  about 
here,"  and  he  looks  around  at  the  various  senoritas  of  the 
Martinez  family,  with  a  jovial  chuckle,  and  a  horrible 
soto  voce  remark  :  "  Perhaps  some  day,  if  I  live  long 
enough,  I'll  be  marryin'  one  of  ye." 

So  they  all  troop  into  a  big  room  at  the  end  of  the  house, 
which  had  once  been  occupied  by  domestic  impedivienta 


l6o  BARON    MONTEZ. 

of  the  Martinez  family  that  are  now  crowded  out  by  the 
collection  of  this  pioneer  of  the  Isthmus. 

It  is  a  conglomeration  of  odds  and  ends  picked  up  in 
nearly  forty  years  of  the  Tropics.  I'his  he  proceeds  to 
walk  around,  giving  a  lecture  very  much  after  the  manner 
of  exhibitors  of  similar  collections  in  the  United  States. 

"  Here,"  he  says,  "  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  the  first 
spike  that  was  ever  driven  in  the  Panama  Railroad.  1 
know  it's  genuine,  for  I  pried  it  out  and  stole  it  my 
self. 

''  This,"  he  shouts,  pointing  to  a  hideous  saurian  of 
tremendous  size,  "  is  an  alligator  I  killed  myself  down 
on  the  Mindee  in  '55.  There  were  lots  of  them  there  in 
those  days — big  fellers  !  This  chap  is  reported  to  have 
eaten  a  native  child,  but  I  don't  guarantee  that ! 

"  Here,"  and  he  points  to  some  curious  images,  "  are 
some  of  the  old  statues  taken  from  Chiriqui  temples. 
Dug  'em  up  myself,  and  can  swear  to  their  bein'  the  real 
genuine.  Archaeologists  declare  that  they  take  us  back 
as  far  as  the  times  of  most  ancient  record,  equivalent  to 
days  of  Pharo's  Egypt. 

"  Lot  number  four  is  a  bottle  of  snakes  of  my  own  killin' 
also.  The  one  with  the  big  head  is  what  the  natives  call 
the  Mapana  down  on  the  Atrato,  whose  bite  is  certain 
death.  Here  is  a  Coral,  likewise  deadly.  Killed  it  in 
the  ruins  of  old  Panama.  And  that  reminds  me — by- 
the-by,  Miss  Louise,  I  want  to  give  you  a  little  advice 
about  snakes  in  this  country.  Most  people  will  tell  you 
there  ain't  none  about  here.  So  there  ain't,  in  town  here, 
and  along  the  works  of  the  Panama  Canal  and  Railroad. 
But  I  remamber  in  the  days  in  old  Gargona,  when  the 
passengers  went  down  from  the  board  hotel  to  take  boat 
for  Cruces  early  in  the  morning,  and  a  negro  boy  always 
went  ahead,  swinging  a  lantern,  to  scare  the  crepeers 
away.  When  you  go  into  the  country,  you  wear  high 
boots,  and  don't  skip  around  old  trees  in  open-work 
stockings  ! 

"  Here  is  a  counacouchi,"  and  he  points  to  a  stuffed 
snake  some  thirteen  feet  long.  "  The  natives  here  call  it 
a  name  I  can't  pronounce,  but  it  is  the  same  as  frightens 
people  in  Guiana  under  the  high  title  of 'Bushmaster.' 
It  is  the  deadliest  and  fiercest  viper  on  earth.  He  don't 
wait  for  you  to  come  at  him — he  comes  at  you.     Look  at 


BARON    MONTEZ.  l6l 

them  inch  and  a  half  fangs  !  There's  hyperdermics  for 
ye  !  "  And  he  shows  the  two  fangs  of  that  deadly  snake, 
some  of  which  inhabit  the  more  inaccessible  parts  of  this 
Isthmus  of  Panama,  together  with  the  no  less  dreaded 
lance-headed  viper — the  Isthmus  prototype  of  the  hideous 
Fer  de  lance  of  Martinique,  and  Labarri  of  Guiana,  scale 
for  scale,  the  only  difference  being  that  climatic  changes 
have  given  different  coloring  to  the  snake. 

"  Oh,  no  more  of  this,"  shudders  Louise.  "  I  shall 
dream  of  snakes  !  "  and  turns  away  to  examine  a  hideous 
idol. 

While  doing  this,  she  cries  suddenly  :  "What  is  this?" 
and  points  to  the  branch  of  a  large  tree,  in  whose  solid 
wood  is  imbedded  a  powder  canister,  which  bears  the 
stamp  "  Dupont  Rifle  Powder,  1852,"  though  age  has 
rendered  it  scarcely  legible. 

**  The  first,"  says  Silas,  "  is  an  idol  that  the  Indians 
used  to  worship  before  the  Spaniards  taught  'em  better. 
The  second  is  a  proof  of  the  wonderful  growth  of  all 
vegetable  substances  in  this  rapid  land.  I  was  working 
my  dredger  on  the  main  Chagres  last  rainy  season.  It 
was  just  after  a  flood,  and  there  was  a  pile  of  brushwood 
coming  down  the  river,  when  I  seed  somethin'  glisten 
in  the  floatin'  rubbish,  as  it  went  past  me,  and  fished  this 
out,  and  brought  it  over  here.  That  tree  must  have  been 
growin'  around  that  old  Dupont  powder  canister  that 
probably  some  California  miner  flung  away,  for  perhaps 
thirty  odd  years,  and  has  now  become  part  of  it. 

"Well  !  you  have  not  much  curiosity,  though  you  are 
a  Yankee  !  "  laughs  Louise. 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  you  have  never  removed  the  lead  stopper 
from  it.     There  might  be  something  inside." 

"  Oh,  open  it,  Silas ! "  cries  his  wife.  "  Perhaps 
there's  money  in  it  ! " 

"  Oh,  leave  that  for  a  rainy  day.  Ye  can  spend  an 
afternoon  investigating  it,  when  I'm  on  the  dredger.  At 
present  I  am  goin'  on  with  the  museum  :  Lot  number 
six.  Bow  and  poisoned  arrows.  Have  been  used  by  the 
San  Bias  Injuns  in  fighting  off  surveyors  and  explorers. 
The  high  mountainous  nature  of  the  country  prevents 
their  bein'  conquered,  and  at  present  they  are  the  only 
politically  free  people  in  the  State  of  Panama  !  " 


t62  baron  montez. 

"  Hush  !  "  cries  the  old  notary,  laughing.  "  Don't 
touch  on  politics,  my  friend  Winterburn." 

''Oh,  ho  !  Is  there  another  revolution  on  foot?"  in- 
quires the  Yankee,  and  goes  on  with  the  description  of 
his  collection. 

Some  of  his  curiosities  are  very  peculiar,  notably  an 
idol  with  revolving  eyes. 

After  a  time,  Miss  Louise  grows  tired  of  idols,  bows 
and  arrows,  snakes,  lizards,  and  jaguars,  and  suggests  that 
they  leave  the  balance  of  the  curiosities  for  another  day, 
as  she  is  anxious  to  be  at  her  post  early  in  the  morning. 

Alone  in  her  room,  Silas'  warning  about  snakes  im- 
presses her  so  much  that  she  climbs  into  her  hammock, 
thinking  with  a  shudder  that  it  is  safer  than  the  bed. 
But  she  can't  sleep  in  the  hammock  and  crawls  timidly  to 
the  bed,  and  there  forgets  about  snakes,  for  her  pretty 
lips  murmur — '*  Harry  "  as  unconsciousness  comes  over 
her  and  closes  her  bright  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    DUPLICATE    TINTYPE. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Minturn,  having  American 
business  methods  in  her  mind,  makes  her  appearance, 
after  an  early  breakfast,  at  the  office  of  Montez,  Aguilla 
et  Cie.,  on  the  Calle  de  Paez,  but  finds  that  it  is  not  open, 
and  is  told  by  a  negro  boy  who  is  in  charge  of  it,  that  if 
she  wmII  call  at  eleven  o'clock,  they  will  be  ready  for 
business. 

Consequently,  though  somewhat  astonished,  the  young 
lady  takes  a  walk  about  town,  and  going  towards  the  bay, 
finds  herself  in  the  market  of  Panama,  where  a  number  of 
negro  women  and  mulattoes  are  doing  a  thriving  business 
in  yuccas,  frijolis,  beef  cut  in  long  strips  {tassajo)^  fruits, 
and  fish. 

Tempted  by  some  of  the  beautiful  fruit  of  the  Isthmus, 
Louise  buys  an  orange,  and  walks  nonchalantly,  eating 
it,  towards  the  end  of  the  railroad  track  which  runs  out 
on  the  wharf  into  the  bay.  Nearing  this,  she  sees  a 
building  that  is  now  almost  in  ruins,  carelessly  deciphers 


BARON    MONTEZ.  163 

on  it  the  words  "  Pacific  House,"  and  suddenly  gives  a 
start.  This  is  the  place  from  which  the  last  letter  of 
Alice  Ripley  had  been  written  to  her  daughter  in  the  far- 
away United  States. 

It  brings  the  epistle  home  to  her  ;  Montez  comes  into 
her  mind,  and  she  wonders  :  "  Can  it  be  true — the  wild  ac- 
cusations that  the  American  has  made  against  him  ?  If  he 
Has  ruined  one  friend  in  Paris,  may  he  not  have  destroyed, 
another  frank,  trusting  soul  upon  the  Isthmus  ?  " 

Filled  with  these  thoughts,  the  girl  strolls  slowly  down 
the  wharf,  to  see  a  figure  that  appears  familiar  to  her.  It 
is  that  of  the  second-cabin  passenger  on  board  the  Colon^ 
Bastien  Lefort. 

The  old  man  is  sitting  looking  over  the  beautiful 
waters  of  the  bay,  which,  as  the  tide  is  in,  are  now  rip- 
pling at  his  feet.  His  eyes  have  a  dreamy,  far-off  expres- 
sion, and  he  is  muttering  as  if  broken-hearted,  words  that 
come  to  Miss  Minturn  something  like  this  : 

"Five  hundred  thousand  francs!  Sapriste ! — for  the 
residence  of  the  Director  General !  Seven  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs  !  Mon  Dieu  ! — for  his  country  pal- 
ace !  Millions  for  luxury,  the  pigs — the  swine — but  little 
for  work  !  " 

Then  to  her  astonishment,  the  man  suddenly  becomes 
very  animated,  for  he  utters  a  snarling,  shrieking  "  Sacre  ! 
What  shall  I  do  t  The  savings  of  a  life  !  "  and  goes 
dancing  and  muttering  up  the  wharf  in  a  semi- demented, 
semi-paralyzed  manner. 

But  the  beauties  of  the  scene  bring  back  her  thoughts 
to  it.  It  is  fairy-land  I — and  a  fairy-land  she  had  never 
seen  before,  for  no  stage  picture  was  ever  so  beautiful. 
The  dainty  islands  of  Flamenco,  Perico,  Tobaguilla,  and 
in  the  distance  far-away  Toboga,  rise  before  her  from 
blue  water,  green — eternal  green  ! 

To  the  south,  blue  water  ; — though  this  seems  to  her 
west,  for  the  points  of  the  compass  are  wondrously 
changed  here,  to  those  not  knowing  them. 

To  the  east,  the  coast  running  away  to  the  far-off  tow- 
er of  deserted  old  Panama,  and  back  of  it  green  savannas 
and  mountains  that  rise  from  it,  islands  in  an  emerald 
sea.     To  th:i  north,  the  old  gray  ramparts  of  the  city. 

But  the  sun  is  coming  up  upon  this  scene  of  beauty, 
and  warned  by  its  heat,  the  girl  leaves  the  wharf  and  re- 


164  BARON    MONTEZ. 

turns  to  the  town  of  Panama,  to  make  her  appearance  at 
the  office  of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie. 

Here  she  is  received  by  the  junior  partner  Aguilla, 
who  is  an  old,  pleasant,  round-faced,  honest-mannered 
Frenchman,  one  of  the  bourgeois  class,  who  had  been 
taught  in  his  youth  to  save  pennies,  but  now,  in  this  era 
of  extravagance,  runs  his  business  quite  liberally. 
•  *'  Ah,"  he  says,  "  Miss  Minturn  !  "  speaking  to  her  in 
French,  to  which  she  replies  in  the  same  language.  "  I 
had  received  advices  of  your  leaving  New  York  from  our 
correspondents,  Flandreau  &  Company,  who  have  for- 
warded to  me  your  contract.  Your  duties  here  will  not 
be  difficult,  nor  unpleasant,  I  hope.  You  will  chiefly  take 
my  dictation,  and  forward  my  letters,  doing  any  other 
correspondence  that  may  be  entrusted  to  you.  An  Ameri- 
can stenographer  was  engaged,  at  the  suggestion  of  my 
partner,  the  Baron  Fernando  Montez. "  The  old  gentle- 
man speaks  with  great  reverence  of  his  titled  associate. 
*'  He  thought  an  American  would  have  less  interest  in 
discovering  any  of  our  confidential  transactions,  and 
would  be  more  difficult  of  approach  than  any  one  we 
could  employ  here.  Your  engagement.  Miss  Minturn,  is 
a  tribute  to  the  respect  my  partner  and  I  feel  for  the  busi- 
ness honor  of  the  United  States." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  chuckles  in  a  theatrical  way  : 
"  Voila  Remington  ! "  and  shows  her,  in  an  adjoining 
office,  a  newly  imported  typc-wTiter. 

''  It  came  with  you,  on  the  same  steamer,"  he  laughs. 

"  Oh,  I  brought  mine  with  me  also  !  "  says  the  girl. 

"  Ah,  that  will  be  convenient,  if  one  gets  out  of  order. 
Besides,"  here  a  sudden  idea  strikes  this  gentleman,  "  I 
occupy  a  villa  belonging  to  Baron  Montez,  on  the  Island 
of  Toboga.  We  will  have  this  sent  there.  I  have  often 
correspondence  that  requires  attention  on  Sundays. 
Sometimes  I  will  ask  you  to  make  a  picnic  to  Toboga,  on 
a  bright  day,  where  you  will  be  pleasantly  received  by  my 
wife  who  lives  there.  Thus  we  can  save  a  delay  of  twenty- 
four  hours  in  our  correspondence." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards.  Miss  Minturn's  own  ma- 
chine, which  has  been  sent  from  his  house  by  the 
notary,  arrives,  and  the  young  lady  finds  herself  at  her 
old  occupation  again,  and  playing  upon  the  well-remem- 
bered but  perhaps  not  well-beloved  keys. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  165 

She  is  delighted  to  find  she  has  a  room  to  herself.  It 
is  immediately  behind  the  private  office  of  Monsieur 
Aguilla.  The  large  general  offices,  three  or  four  of 
them,  are  occupied  by  numerous  clerks  who  go  about 
business  in  a  French  way,  with  a  good  deal  of  excited 
jabber  and  volubility. 

Miss  Minturn's  first  day's  correspondence  is  chiefly 
with  the  Panama  Canal  Co.  Everything  with  that 
institution  is  done  by  letter.  However,  there  are  some 
outside  epistles,  one  to  the  agent  of  the  railroad  at 
Colon,  and  another  addressed  to  Domingo  Florez, 
Porto  Bello,  State  of  Panama,  enclosing  a  draft  upon 
the  Railroad  Company  at  Colon,  for  the  sum  of  fifty 
dollars. 

"  You  can  keep  that  form  of  letter,"  remarks  Aguilla, 
after  dictating  it,  "  as  you  will  have  to  send  a  similar  one 
every  month  to  the  old  man,  as  it  contains  his  remittance 
— his  dividend  on  his  Panama  stock." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  looks  with  quick,  eager  eyes 
at  the  deft  hands  of  the  young  lady,  as  they  fly  over  the 
keyboard. 

He  laughs  as  he  goes  away,  and  says  : 

"  You  are  like  an  artist  on  the  piano.  I  feel  quite 
proud  of  our  firm  !  We  have  the  only  stenographer 
and  typewriter  on  the  Isthmus  !  " 

This  sets  the  girl  to  thinking.  She  the  only  stenog- 
rapher in  Panama — what  could  have  put  it  into  their 
heads  ?  But  the  remark  of  Aguilla  satisfies  her  on  this 
point.  They  fear  that  their  affairs  would  not  be  as 
private  in  the  hands  of  some  one  who  knew  more 
about  the  state  of  business  on  the  Isthmus — some  one 
who  perhaps  might  find  it  to  his  interest  to  disclose  some 
of  their  contracts  with  the  Panama  Canal  Company — one 
or  two  of  the  letters  to  that  concern  having  made  Miss 
Minturn  open  her  bright  American  eyes,  and  wonder 
with  her  bright  American  mind,  if  there  is  not  jobbery 
and  rascality  contained  between  their  rather  ambiguous 
lines. 

But  this  is  none  of  her  business,  and  getting  through 
with  her  work,  Louise  soon  becomes  interested  in  the 
movements  of  her  fellow-clerks,  a  few  of  whom  are  now 
introduced  to  her  by  the  head  of  the  house. 

Most  of  these  are  young  Frenchmen  ;   although  there 


l66  BARON    MONTEZ. 

are  a  few  Spaniards  and  Chilians,  there  are  no  Americans 
among  them.  But,  curiously  enough,  there  is  a  China- 
man !  He  has  charge  of  the  accounts  of  the  various 
laborers  hired  upon  certain  excavation  contracts  that  the 
firm  is  engaged  upon,  and  also  carries  accounts  with 
several  Chinese  stores  and  booths  scattered  along  the 
works  of  the  Canal,  between  here  and  Colon. 

Two  of  the  clerks,  however,  interest  her.  They  are 
both  great  dandies,  one  of  them  a  young  Parisian  named 
Massol,  and  the  other  a  Marseillais  named  D 'Albert. 
These  two  young  gentlemen  are  apparently  well  up  in 
the  office  and  have  good  salaries,  as  they  stroll  off  to  the 
Bethancourt  for  lunch,  while  the  bulk  of  the  employees 
are  perfectly  content  with  the  more  democratic  and  less 
expensive  La  Cascada,  which  is  more  convenient  to  the 
Calle  de  Paez. 

Noting  the  employees  going  away,  the  young  lady 
steps  into  Monsieur  Aguilla's  private  room,  and  says  : 
."  What  must  I  do  now  ? " 

"  Why,  do  what  the  rest  of  them  have  done.  Run 
away  to  your  breakfast !  " 

"  Will  I  have  time  ? "  asks  the  girl,  astonished,  recol- 
lections of  the  rush  of  Nassau  Street  coming  to  her. 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  There  will  be  nothing  for  you  to  do 
till  half-past  two — say  three  o'clock.  I  will  be  here  at 
three.     Perhaps  I  may  have  a  few  letters." 

So  the  girl  trips  away  quite  lightly,  though  the  sun  is 
warm,  wondering  to  herself  :  "  Sixty  dollars  a  week  for 
this!  At  this  rate  I  would  have  earned  six  hundred 
dollars  a  week  at  Miss  Work's." 

But  she  soon  discovers  that  the  heat  is  such  that  one 
cannot  labor  as  vigorously  in  Panama  as  in  New  York. 

When  she  gets  home  and  has  a  de'jeu7ier  a  la  fourchette^ 
she  is  very  glad  to  escape  from  the  sun,  and  under  the 
cool  veranda  lounge  out  a  couple  of  hours  in  a  ham- 
mock siesta.  It  does  not  take  long  for  old  Sol  to  destroy 
even  Anglo-Saxon  activity  in  this  land  of  the  Equator. 

So  the  week  runs  along,  and  grows  heavy  to  her,  for 
by  this  time  she  has  become  very  anxious  to  see  the 
bright  face  of  Harry  Larchmont.  She  has,  however, 
heard  about  him  several  times  from  the  loquacious 
clerks,  D'Albert  and  Massol,  the  former  of  whom  ques- 
tions her  regarding  the  young  American. 


•  NTEZ.  167 

He  remarks  one  day  :  "  Mademoiselle,  you  came  by 
the  same  steamer  with  Monsieur  Larchmont,  the  new 
clerk  of  the  Pacific  Mail  Company  ? '[ 

"  Yes,"  replies  the  girl,  "  why  do  you  ask  ? " 

''  Why  ?  Because  he  is  the  most  wonderful  clerk  in 
the  world.  His  salary,  I  have  inquired  and  discovered, 
is  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month.  He  spends 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  a  night.  Now,  if  he 
were  rich,  he  might  be  a  clerk  in  other  lands,  but  nobody 
who  is  rich  would  ever  come  down  here  to  slave." 

Then  he  suddenly  strikes  his  head,  and  says  :  "  Mon 
Dieu  !  perhaps  he  is  an  embezzler  !  Perhaps  he  has  fled 
from  the  United  States  !  "  for  there  are  several  of  these 
gentry  upon,  the  Isthmus. 

The  girl  answers,  with  indignant  eyes  :  "  Embezzler ! 
What  do  you  mean  ?  Mr.  Larchmont  is  a  member  of  one 
of  the  richest  families  of  the  United  States  ! " 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  And  mademoiselle  is  angry  !  "  replies 
the  young  man.  Then  he  bows  to  her  mockingly,  and 
remarks  suggestively  :  "  Monsieur  Larchmont  is  also  one 
of  the  handsomest  men  in  the  United  States  !  " 

Watching  them  as  they  go  to  breakfast,  Louise  notes 
with  flaming  eyes  and  indignant  face  D'Albert  and 
Massol  emit  sly  giggles,  and  indulge  in  shrugs  of  shoul- 
ders, and  slight  pokes  in  each  other's  Gallic  ribs. 

Going  off  to  her  own  afternoon  intermission  she  smites 
her  pretty  hands  together  nervously,  once  or  twice,  and 
murmurs  :  "Yes,  handsome  !  God  help  me  !  Too  hand- 
some for  my  happiness  !  "  Then  she  says  suddenly  : 
"  What  a  fool  he  is  !  Could  he  not  have  seen  it  was 
Miss  Severn  made  me  angry  ? " 

So  the  time  is  heavy  on  her  fair  hands.  Silas  Win- 
terburn  has  already  gone  back  to  his  dredger  on  the 
Chagres,  and  Mrs.  Winterburn  devotes  herself  chiefly  to 
her  child  and  rummaging  in  her  husband's  museum  in  the 
daytime,  and  listening  to  the  music  of  the  young  ladies 
at  night ;  for  this  is  almost  the  only  recreation  that 
Louise  has  found. 

According  to  Spanish  custom,  young  ladies  cannot  go 
out  by  themselves,  and  old  Martinez  does  not  seem  to 
ever  think  of  taking  his  daughters  to  evening  amusements. 

"  If  they  would  only  go  to  the  theatre,"  thinks  Miss 
Minturn,  "  I   could    perhaps   invite    myself   to   go   with 


l68  DARON    MONTEZ. 

them.  There  I  might  see  him  !  What  shall  I  do  to 
pass  the  coming  nights  that  are  even  now  so  long? " 

And  she  has  thoughts  of  writing  a  novel,  or  poetry, 
or  some  other  wild  literary  thing  that  young  ladies 
when  driven  by  ennui,  resort  to,  to  bring  despair  upon 
publishers. 

So  Saturday  arrives,  and  Louise  imagines  she  will 
have  a  Sunday  holiday,  and  thinks  of  doing  the  Cathedral. 

But  before  leaving  the  office  for  the  afternoon,  a  large 
mail  comes  in,  and  Aguilla  taking  it  in  his  hands  says  : 
'^  Behold  our  Sunday  work  !  Make  up  a  little  picnic. 
Ask  one  of  your  young  lady  friends,  the  Martinez,  I 
believe  you  live  with,  or  some  one  else,  to  come 
with  you  to  Toboga.  Run  down  to-morrow.  I  have 
had  the  new  typewriter  sent  there.  You  will  have  a 
little  office  all  to  yourself  in  my  villa.  Come  and  pass 
the  day  with  us,  and  take  a  two  hours'  dictation  from 
me.  The  Ancon  goes  down  every  morning,  and  you 
will  enjoy  the  trip,  I  think.  The  expense,  of  course, 
will  be  mine." 

"  Thank  you,"  replies  the  young  lady,  "  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  come,"  as  in  truth  she  is  ;  for  she  knows  it 
will  be  a  pleasant  excursion,  having  heard  of  the  beauties 
of  Toboga  Island  from  other  people  besides  her  em- 
ployer. 

So  she  asks  Mrs.  Winterburn  if  she  will  not  go  with 
her,  thinking  she  will  be  more  protection,  and  perchance 
needs  more  recreation  than  the  voluble  Spanish  girls, 
who  seem  to  find  their  life  in  Panama  a  pleasant  one,  not- 
withstanding there  is  a  dearth  of  suitors,  as  old  Martinez 
has  no  great  dot  to  bestow  upon  his  numerous  progeny. 

Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  Miss  Minturn  and  the 
wife  of  the  engineer,  one  bright  Sunday  morning,  run 
down  through  the  limpid  waters  of  the  bay,  upon  the 
steamboat  which  lands  them  amid  the  palms,  plantains, 
and  cocoanuts  of  Toboga  Island,  which  is  very  fair— fair 
as  when  George  Ripley  looked  upon  it  in  1856,  though 
now  slightly  more  modern. 

They  tramp  up  the  little  hill,  and  over  the  same  walk 
that  Fernando  had  skipped  down  that  15th  day  of  April, 
and  come  to  the  villa  of  Baron  Montez  of  Panama, 
which  has  been  greatly  enlarged  from  the  bamboo  and 
palm-thatched  cottage  of  its  early  days. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  169 

Seated  on  a  veranda  overlooking  the  bay,  Louise  finds 
the  genial  Frenchman  and  his  family,  and  they  make 
her  at  home,  and  treat  her  very  kindly  ;  and  alter  a 
pleasant  lunch,  she  takes  half  an  hour's  dictation  from 
the  business  man. 

"  Now,"  he  says,  "  I  think  you  can  write  all  these  letters 
^nd  have  time  to  return  to  Panama  this  afternoon  !  " 

He  leads  her  into  quite  a  large  room  which  had  once 
been  used  as  a  bedchamber,  but  which  has  been  made 
into  a  temporary  office,  for  there  is  a  bureau,  chest  of 
drawers,  and  washstand  in  it.  In  this  has  been  set  up 
the  typewriter. 

Working  rapidly,  Louise  finishes  the  letters  in  less 
time  than   she   had    expected. 

As  she  hands  them  to  Aguilla,  he  remarks  :  "  Have 
this  paper  put  away  in  the  bureau.  Make  everything 
permanent  for  yourself.  This  dictation  has  been  a  great 
success  !  I  am  a  day  ahead  in  my  week's  work.  We 
will  have  more  of  these  Sunday  dictations." 

"  Very  well,"  answers  the  young  lady,  "  I  will  put  the 
paper  and  envelopes  in  the  drawers  of  the  bureau." 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  is  empty,"  he  replies.  "  I  don't  think 
the  room  has  been  occupied  for  a  long  time,  though  my 
partner  slept  in  it  years  ago,  before  even  the  Canal." 

So  he  leaves  Mrs.  Winterburn  and  Miss  Minturn 
together,  for  the  girl  is  putting  on  her  wraps. 

Susie  says  suddenly  :  "  I  will  put  away  the  paper  for 
you,  so  we  will  have  more  time  to  catch  the  boat." 

"  Thank  you,  I  think  the  top  drawer  will  be  all  I  want," 
answers  Louise,  by  this  time  engaged  with  her  hat- 
strings. 

"  What  a  pretty  picture  ! "  suddenly  exclaims  the 
matron,  from  the  depths  of  the  bureau. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  says  the  young  lady  nonchalantly. 

"  Yes,  1  reckon  she  must  have  been  some  sweetheart  of 
the  Baron's,"  laughs  the  lady.  ''  It's  quite  your  facial 
expression.  Look  !  "  and  she  thrusts  the  picture  under 
the  girl's  vision. 

And  suddenly  Louise's  eyes  grow  great  with  startled 
surprise,  and  stare  at  a  portrait !  For  it  is  the  counter- 
part of  the  x>ne  she  showed  Harry  Larchmont  that  day 
upon  the  Colon — the  one  even  now  she  is  carrying  in  her 
pocketbook. 


170  BARON    MONTEZ. 

She  gasps— she  almost  staggers  ! 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  dearie  ?"  cries  Mrs.  Winter- 
burn. 

"  Nothing,  but  a  great  surprise !  Something  that  I 
may  want,"  says  the  girl  suddenly,  a  kind  of  horror  corn- 
ing into  her  eyes, — "  want  you  to  bear  witness  to.  See  !  " 
She  has  opened  the  pocketbook.  *'  Compare  these  two 
— the  one  found  in  this  deserted  room — in  the  unused 
bureau — it  is  the  duplicate  !  It  is  the  picture  of  Alice 
Ripley,  who  disappeared  on  the  Isthmus  over  thirty 
years  ago  !  " 

And  she  holding  them  before  the  astonished  woman's 
face,  Mrs.  Winterburn  says,  also  growing  pale  :  ^'  Oh, 
goodness  gracious  !  They  are  just  the  same  !  She  was  a 
relative  of  yours  ?  " 

"Yes,  she  was  my  mother's  mother,"  whispers  Louise. 
**  She  and  her  husband  were  robbed  here  of  a  fortune 
which  should  have  been  mine — at  all  events,  it  disap- 
peared. This  picture  I  am  justified  in  keeping !  But 
say  nothing  of  it — not  even  to  your  husband." 

"Why,  Silas  can  help  you  in  the  matter  !  He  knows 
everything  about  the  old  Isthmus  in  those  days  !"  gasps 
Mrs.  Winterburn. 

"  Until  I  tell  you — not  a  word  to  him  !  I  must  con- 
sider." 

The  girl's  hand  is  laid  warningly  upon  the  woman's 
arm,  as  Aguilla  coming  in,  says  :  "  Hurry,  my  dear  young 
lady,  or  you  will  miss  the  boat !  " 

"  Yes,"  answers  Louise.  "  Thank  you  for  your  hospital- 
ity !  "  and  goes  down  the  path  falteringly,  leaning  upon 
Mrs.  Winterburn 's  arm. 

So  falteringly  that  Aguilla  remarks  to  his  wife  :  "  Is 
sickness  coming  upon  that  poor  child  so  soon?  See, 
even  now  she  looks  pale — her  limbs  tremble.  Can  the 
yellow  fever  have  found  even  her  youth  and  beauty  ? " 
and  sighs,  turning  away  his  face,  for  he  has  seen  many  a 
young  face  go  down  before  Yellow  Jack  in  this  town  of 
Panama. 

But  as  they  approach  the  landing,  Louise  starts  and 
gives  a  jeering  laugh,  for  Mrs.  Winterburn  has  whispered 
to  her  :  "  Do  you  think  he  is  the  murderer  ?  " 

"  He  ?     Who  ?  " 

'*  Why,  Aguilla,  the  man  in  the  house/' 


BARON    MONTEZ.  171 

"  No ! "  cries  the  girl.  "  He  is  as  kind-hearted  a 
Frenchman  as  the  sun  ever  shone  on  !  He  has  an  honest 
heart !  Though  I  think  there  is  another  who  is  not  so 
scrupulous  !  But  for  God's  sake,  keep  silent !  My 
future  depends  upon  your  promise  !  " 

"Very  well ! "  says  the  lady,  *'  though  I'd  like  to  have 
^9ld  my  husband! " 

"  I'll  tell  him  if  necessary,"  answers  Louise. 

Then  they  board  the  steamer,  which  ploughs  its  way 
back  over  the  blue  water  to  Panama,  making  the  trip  in 
about  an  hour  ;  and  all  this  time  Miss  Minturn  is  in  a 
brown  study,  no  flight  of  flying  fish  attracts  her,  no  big 
shark  draws  her  gaze — her  eyes  look  out  on  the  blue 
water  but  see  it  not. 

She  is  thinking  :  "  He  divined  !  He  knev/  !  I'll  tell 
Harry  Larchmont !  I'll  beg  his  pardon  !  I'll  tell  him 
what  a  fool  I  was!  I'll  ask  his  aid,  and  if  Montez  is 
guilty,  I'll  help  him  throw  the  villain  down  !  " 

Now  she  becomes  desperately  anxious  to  see  this  man 
she  has  turned  her  back  upon.  She  throws  away  mock 
modesty.     Excitement  gives  force  to  her  character. 

Soon  after  they  reach  her  home  in  Panama,  Martinez 
says  :  "  You  are  not  tired  ;  your  eyes  are  very  bright  ; 
your  face  has  plenty  of  color,  Senorita  Luisa  ;  why  not 
take  a  walk  with  me  and  my  daughters,  Qn  the  Battery  ? 
Everybody  goes  there  on  Sunday  afternoons,  to  hear  the 
band  play.     It  costs  nothing." 

"  Willingly  !  "  cries  the  girl,  for  sudden  thought  has 
come  to  her  :  "  If  everybody  goes  to  hear  the  band  play, 
Harry  Larchmont  will  be  there  !  "  She  .  can  speak  to 
him.     She  can  apologize  and  ask  his  advice  and  aid. 

So  they  all  stroll  off  to  the  Battery,  which  is  but  a  step 
for  them,  and  climbing  up  on  the  old  ramparts,  that  have 
the  city  prison  beneath  them,  they  see  the  town  in  its 
glory — the  white  dresses  of  the  ladies,  the  gay  colors  of 
the  negroes,  the  fashions  of  Paris  displayed  in  ancient 
setting  of  rare  beauty  ;  blue  water  on  one  side,  the  old 
town  on  the  other  ;  underneath,  prisoners  wearing  out 
their  lives  in  sepulchral  heat ;  and  overhead,  gay  Panama. 

The  crowd  is  brilliant  as  a  butterfly  and  light  and  airy 
as  the  blowing  breeze.  The  military  band  is  playing,  and 
the  scene  is  radiant  with  French  color  and  French  vivac- 
ity, but  it  has  tender  Spanish  music,  for  the  band  is  South 


172  BARON    MONTEZ. 

American,  and  Spanish  music  always  brings  love  to  young 
girls'  hearts. 

So  there  are  tears  in  Louise's  brown  eyes,  and  she 
is  looking  anxiously  for  Harry  Larchmont,  when  sud- 
denly there  is  even  more  than  the  usual  French  buzz 
about  her,  and  she  sees  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  latest 
mode  of  Paris,  sweeping  with  bold  eyes  and  flaunting 
step,  and  brazen  look  through  the  assemblage.  The 
eyes  of  all  are  turned  upon  her,  and  she  is  laughing  and 
flirting  her  parasol  about  her,  and  crying:  ^^Bichon! 
Viens  icl !  Bichon  !  Vite  !  "to  2l  French  poodle  that  has 
been  shaved  in  artistic  manner,  and  is  led  by  a  maid 
beside  her.  She  is  talking  to  a  gentleman  whose  form 
the  girl  recognizes  and  Starts  as  she  sees  his  face,  for  it 
is  Harry  Larchmont,  and  he  has  shut  off  all  admirers 
from  this  lady's  side,  and  is  talking  to  her,  making  play 
with  his  eyes,  as  if  he  loved  her. 

Then  there  is  a  whisper  in  the  girl's  ears.  It  is  that 
of  old  Martinez  the  notary,  who  knows  everybody  and 
says  :  "  Turn  away  your  heads,  girls  !  It  is  that  awful 
French  actress — that  fearful  Mademoiselle  Bebe  de 
Champs  Klysees,  the  heroine  of  a  hundred  loves,  the  che7'e 
amie  of  Baron  Montez,  the  financier." 

But  Miss  Minturn  does  not  turn  away  her  head  !  She 
looks  straight  «at  the  gentleman,  who  on  seeing  her  is 
about  to  speak,  but  as  her  eyes  gaze  at  him,  his  eyes 
droop,  abashed,  a  flush  of  shame  runs  over  his  cheeks, 
that  for  one  moment  have  become  pale,  and  his  lips 
tremble  a  little,  though  they  force  themselves  to  try  to 
speak,  as  Louise  Ripley  Minturn,  the  stenographer  of 
Seventeenth  Street,  New  York,  cuts  Harry  Sturgis 
Larchmont,  of  fashion  and  Fifth  Avenue,  dead — dead  as 
the  yellow  fever  ! 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

VADALIA    CARDINALIS. 


Then  Mademoiselle  de  Champs  felysees  and  Harry 
Larchmont  pass  on,  the  crowd  gathering  about  them 
with  hum  and  chatter  and  merry  voices,  and  screening 
them  from  her  view  ;  and  the  girl,  who  has  thoroughbred 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I  73 

pluck,  and  whose  eyes  have  looked  the  gentleman  very- 
straight  in  the  face,  suddenly  feels  faint,  and  thinks  the 
sun  has  gone  out  of  the  heavens,  for  love,  trust,  and  faith 
in  humanity  have  gone  out  of  her  heart  also. 

She  notes,  in  an  abstracted  way,  that  Martinez  is  mak- 
ing some  little  joke  upon  the  appearance  of  the  French- 
woman :  for  though  he  has  told  his  daughters  not  to  look, 
tfie  old  notary's  eyes  have  devoured  the  beautiful  yet 
too  highly  colored  picture  La  Champs  Elysees  has  made. 

After  a  little  the  young  Martinez  ladies  suggest  going 
home,  and  Louise  is  very  glad,  and  departs  with  them 
to  her  lodgings,  carrying  her  head  quite  high  and  haught- 
ily, though  she  has  a  heart  of  lead  and  iron  within  her 
wildly  panting  bosom. 

But  she  has  left  a  picture  in  the  eyes  of  Harry  Larch- 
mont  that  he  will  never  forget !  That  of  a  girl  with  a 
light  straw  hat,  the  ribbons  floating  in  the  breeze  above 
her  lovely  head — a  graceful  figure  posed  like  a  statue 
of  surprise,  one  little  foot  advanced  from  under  white 
floating  draperies,  the  other  turned  almost  as  if  to  fly. 
A  sash  of  blue  shining  silk  or  satin,  knotted  by  a  grace- 
ful bow  about  a  fairy  waist  ;  above  it,  a  bosom  that 
pants  wildly  for  one  moment,  and  then  seems  to  stop  its 
beating,  as  her  hand  is  wildly  pressed  upon  its  agony. 
But  the  face  !  The  noble  forehead  ;  the  true,  honest, 
hazel  eyes,  which  flash  a  shock  of  unutterable  surprise  and 
scorn  for  debased  mankind,  and  nostrils  panting  but 
defiant;  pink  cheeks  that  grow  pale  even  as  he  looks 
upon  them  ;  rosy  lips  that  become  slowly  pallid,  the 
lower  trembling,  the  upper  curled  in  exquisite  disdain  ; 
the  mouth  half  open,  as  if  about  to  speak — then  closed 
to  him  for  ever  ;  and  over  all  this  the  infinite  sadness  of 
a  woman's  heart  for  destroyed  belief  in  what  she  had 
considered  a  noble  manhood. 

And  his  heart  stops  beating,  too,  for  even  as  he  looks 
at  her  comes  a  sudden  rapture,  then  a  chill  of  horror — 
rapture,  for  at  this  moment  he  guesses  that  she  loves  him; 
horror,  because  he  knows  she  will  love  him  no  more. 

Turning  from  this  picture  of  pure  womanhood,  he 
sees  beside  him  the  woman  for  whom  he  has  lost  all  hope 
of  gaining  what  he  now  knows  has  been  his  hope  in  life. 
For  the  shock  of  her  disdain  has  told  him  something  a 
false  pride  had  made  him  fight  against  believing  ;  that  he, 


174  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Harry  Larchmont  of  the  world  of  fashion,  loves  Louise 
Minturn  of  the  world  of  work  with  all  his  heart  and  all 
his  soul. 

Though  Bebe  de  Champs  Elys^es  utters  her  latest 
piquant  drolleries  imported  from  Paris,  and  tries  her  best 
to  amuse  and  allure  this  handsome  young  American  who 
strolls  by  her  side,  and  whom  she  supposes  rich,  for  he 
has  squandered  money  on  her,  she  finds  him  but  poor 
company.  He  contrives,  to  reply  to  her,  but  her  flaunt- 
ing affectations  seem  more  meretricious  to  him  than 
ever. 

After  a  little  time  he  excuses  himself  to  Mademoiselle 
Bebe,  and  leaves  this  fascinating  siren  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  gentlemen  admirers,  for  her  notoriety,  as  well 
as  beauty,  have  given  her  quite  a  following  of  high-life 
worshippers  in  this  town  of  Panama. 

As  he  goes  away  the  band  is  playing  one  of  the  Span- 
ish love  songs  Louise  had  sung  to  him  in  the  moonlight 
on  the  Colons  deck,  and  he  mutters  to  himself,  crushing 
his  hands  together,  "  JNIy  dear  little  sweetheart  of  the 
voyage  !  Fool  that  I  was  !  I  have  lost  her  for  a  fan- 
tasy !  "  Which  is  true,  for  no  love  of  Bebe  de  Champs 
Elysees  had  ever  entered  Harry  Larchmont's  heart. 

He  had  gone  into  this  affair  rather  recklessly,  simply 
seeking  information  that  he  thought  she  could  give,  and 
for  which  he  was  willing  to  pay.  As  to  its  moral  sense,  he 
had  given  it  very  little  consideration.  It  had  simply 
occurred  to  him  that  by  it  he  might"  destroy  his  adversary. 
In  New  York  he  would  doubtless  have  hesitated  before 
embarking  in  a  matter  that  might  bring  scandal  upon  his 
name  ;  but  here,  in  this  far-off  little  place,  which  has  the 
vices  of  Paris,  without  even  its  slight  restraints,  he  had 
dismissed  this  aspect  of  the  affair  from  his  mind,  with 
the  trite  remark  :  "  When  you  are  in  Rome,  do  as  the 
Romans  do  !  " 

So  Baron  Montez  not  being  on  hand,  Harry  Larch- 
mont has  obtained  a  passing  introduction  to  this  siren  of 
the  Boulevards  upon  her  arrival.  He  has  made  his 
approaches  to  her  quite  cautiously,  and  with  all  the  secrecy 
possible,  not  wishing  to  form  part  of  the  petite  gossip 
of  Panama.  Having  spent  quietly  considerable  money 
and  considerable  time  in  trying  to  insinuate  himself  into 
her  good  graces,  he  has  succeeded  in  gaining  perhaps 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I75 

more  of  Mademoiselle  Bebe's  regard  than  he  himself 
would  wish. 

Her  confidences,  for  he  has  been  compelled  to  ap- 
proach the  matter  very  deftly,  have  been  so  far  only  con- 
fidences as  to  what  kinds  of  jev/elry  she  likes  most.  Jn 
fact,  a  great  deal  of  her  conversation  has  been  in  regard 
tp  the  wondrous  string  of  pearls  that  a  merchant  has 
brought  from  the  Isle  del  Rey^  that  are,  as  she  expresses 
it,  "  dirt  cheap  !  "  For  this  young  lady  has  an  eye  to 
business,  and  knows  that  the  traders  of  Panama  have  not 
as  fine  diamonds  as  those  of  Paris,  yet  in  pearls  they 
sometimes  equal,  sometimes  excel  them. 

Her  promptings  and  petitionings  have  been  so  per- 
sistent, that  Harry  knows  that  the  gift  will  probably  win 
from  her  the  information  that  he  wishes,  and  that  when 
the  pearls  of  Panama  adorn  Mademoiselle  Bebe's  fair  neck, 
she  will  perchance  in  a  gush  of  rapture  open  her  pretty 
lips,  and  tell  him  what  she  knows,  if  he  pumps  her  deftly. 

So  this  very  Sunday  he  has  this  string  of  pearls  in  his 
pocket,  having  purchased  them  the  evening  before,  and 
was  about  to  present  them  to  her. 

But  even  while  he  is  arranging  a  little  coup  de  theatre 
that  may  unloose  the  siren's  tongue,  she  has  insisted 
upon  his  visiting  the  Battery  in  her  company  ;  for  this 
lady  likes  to  make  public  display  of  her  conquests,  and 
Larchmont  is  a  very  handsome  one.  Some  sense  of 
shame  being  on  him,  even  in  this  free-and-easy,  out-of- 
the-way  place,  Harry  has  declined  her  invitation. 

But  Bebe's  temperament  will  not  brook  denial  even  in 
little  things  ;  she  has  turned  upon  him  and  said  :  "  Man 
a77ii,  are  you  ashamed  to  be  seen  by  the  side  of  the 
woman  to  whom  you  express  devotion  ?  If  I  thought 
that,  my  handsome  Puritan,  I  should  hate  you — you  have 
never  seen  Bebe's  hate." 

Under  these  suggestions  he  has  yielded,  and  been  led 
very  much  like  Bichon,  her  poodle,  in  triumph  to  the 
Battery  of  Panama,  there  to  meet  what  fate  had  pre- 
pared for  him. 

But  now  shame  changes  this  man's  ideas.  He  mut- 
ters to  himself  :  '^  The  cost  is  too  great  !  I  will  not  win 
success  at  the  degradation  of  my  manhood  !  though. 
Heaven  help  me  !  I  fear  I  have  already  paid  the  bitter 
price  !  " 


176  BARON    MONTEZ. 

From  this  time  on  he  visits  Mademoiselle  de  Champs 
Elysees  no  more. 

But  his  desertion  produces  a  curious  complication,  and 
brings  the  siren's  undying  hate. 

Among  the  gentlemen  who  pay  their  devotions  on  the 
Battery  this  afternoon  to  Mademoiselle  de  Champs 
Elysees,  immediately  after  Harry's  departure,  is  young 
Don  Diego  Alvarez,  who  has  lingered  in  Panama,  waiting 
for  the  steamer  to  carry  him  to  Costa  Rica.  This  fiery 
young  cavalier  still  hates,  with  all  his  Spanish  heart,  Mr. 
Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont.  His  regard  for  him  has  not 
been  increased  by  his  apparent  success  with' the  coming 
celebrity  at  the  theatre.  He  has  learned  that  Larch- 
mont is  a  clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail,  and  sneers  at  him  as 
such,  and  laughs  to  himself  :  "  What  will  be  the  effect  of 
my  news  on  the  mercenary  diva  ?  " 

So  he  strolls  up  to  her,  and  enters  into  conversation, 
remarking  :  "  I  am  delighted,  Mademoiselle  Bebe,  to  see 
at  least  one  woman  who  admires  a  handsome  man,  even 
if  he  has  no  of/ier  attractions." 

"  You  don't  mean  me  ? "  laughs  the  lady  in  gay  unbelief. 

"  Certainly,  you  !  " 

"  And  who  is  the  gentleman?  Of  course  I've  never 
seen  him  yet*' 

*'Why,  that  American,  Sefior  Larchmont." 

"  Oh,  Henri,"  says  the  young  lady  in  playful,  easy 
familiarity.  *'  Henri  has  plenty  of  ot/ier  attractions. 
Besides  good  looks,  he  has  money  !  " 

"  Money  ?  "  sneers  the  Costa  Rican. 

*' Yes,  money  !  " 

"  But  not  much  money." 

"  He  has  enough  to  promise  me  the  great  string  of 
pearls  that  have  just  come  from  the  islands  !  " 

"  What  ?  This  clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail  Company,  at 
a  beggarly  salary,  buy  the  great  string  of  pearls  ? "  scoffs 
the  Costa  Rican. 

"  This  clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company  ! 
Whom  do  you  mean  ?  "  gasps  the  fair  Bebe,  growing  pale. 

"The  Seiior  Harry  .Larchmont." 

"  Impossible  !  " 

*'  You  can  convince  yourself  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
have  said,  easily  enough  to-morrow,  or  this  evening,  if 
you  are  in  a  hurry,"  laughs  Don  Diego. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 77 

*  And  he  promised  me  that  string  of  pearls,  the  mise- 
rable !  He  played  with  my  heart !  "  gasps  the  lady,  plac- 
ing her  hand  where  that  organ  should  be,  but  is  not.  "A 
clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail — an  accountant — a  beggarly 
scribbler  !  But  I  will  investigate  !  Woe  to  him  if  it  is 
true  ! " 

•  Being  a  woman  of  her  word,  not  only  in  affairs  of  the 
heart  but  in  matters  of  business,  this  lady  makes  inquiry 
and  finds  that  what  she  feared  is  true  ;  and  would  have 
vented  her  rage  upon  Mr.  Larchmont  had  he  appeared 
before  her.  But  Harry  keeping  aloof,  she  changes  her 
tune  in  reference  to  this  gentleman,  for  she  is  an  incon- 
stant creature,  longing  most  for  what  she  has  not.  She 
mutters  :  "  The  poor  fellow  !  I  frightened  him  away  by 
my  extravagance.  I  would  have  forgiven  his  being  a 
clerk,  he  is  so  handsome  !  " 

But  the  pearls  being  still  in  her  head,  she  thinks  she 
would  like  to  take  a  look  at  them  ;  that,  perhaps,  as 
Baron  Montez  is  coming,  he  may  be  induced  to  purchase 
them  ;  and  she  goes  to  the  shop  of  Marcus  Asch  the 
jeweller  near  the  Cabildo,  and  asks  for  the  baubles  that 
she  will  gloat  over  and  admire.  But  they  inform  her 
that  the  pearls  are  gone. 

"  Gone  ?     Absurd  !     They  were  here  last  Saturday  !  " 

"Yes,  but  Senor  Larchmont  bought  them." 

"J/<?;2  Dicii !  Impossible!"  she  screams;  and  then 
going  away,  mutters  :  "  Malediction  !  if  he  has  given 
them  to  another  !  "  but  sends  the  gentleman  who  has 
bought  the  pearls  a  most  affectionate  note. 

And  perchance  if  Harry  could  have  seen  her  then,  he 
would  have  bought  from  her  with  his  pearls  any  revela- 
tions of  chance  words  Montez  had  let  fall  in  the  con- 
fidences of  the  champagne  glass  or  petite  supper  ;  for 
Bebe,  like  Judas,  will  betray  her  master  for  the  ten  pieces 
of  silver  as  often  as  they  are  laid  at  her  feet. 

But  Larchmont  does  not  receive  her  note.  He  has 
gone  away,  along  the  line  of  the  Canal,  towards  Aspin- 
wall. 

So  she  grows  very  angry  and  thinks  to  herself  :  "What 
other  one  has  received  what  were  bought  for  me  ?  I  will 
punish  this  traitor  !  " 

That  afternoon  Baron  Montez  arrives  in  Panama. 

This  gentleman  is  apparently  quite  happy  and   con- 
12 


178  BARON    MONTEZ. 

tented  as  he  drives  up  from  the  railroad  station  in  com- 
pany with  his  partner  and  Herr  Wernig,  and  enters  his 
office,  hardly  noting  that  there  is  a  bright-eyed  girl 
who  looks  up  from  her  work  in  the  room  behind  the 
private  office  with  curious  interest  at  him.  His  years 
have  been  successful  ones,  and  though  there  are  two 
gray  locks  upon  his  temples,  his  eyes  are  as  bright  as  of 
yore,  and  his  intellect  as  vivacious,  though  tempered  by 
contact  with  other  brilliant  minds. 

He  gets  through  his  business  rather  quickly  in  his 
office,  saying  to  Aguilla,  who  would  be  effusive,  "To- 
morrow, mon  ami.  To-night  my  comrade  Herr  Wernig 
and  I  will  talk  over  old  times," 

So  the  two  go  away  together  to  the  Grand  Hotel, 
where  Montez  has  the  finest  apartments  and  is  received 
by  Schuber  the  proprietor  with  much  deference  and 
many  bows  ;  for  though  the  Baron  has  been  careful  never 
to  have  his  name  upon  the  directory  of  the  Panama 
Canal,  still  he  is  known  to  be  in  very  close  touch  to  its 
management  and  control. 

After  dinner  the  two  stroll  up  to  the  theatre  where 
Mademoiselle  Bebe  is  waiting  for  her  cher  ami,  with 
many  evidences  of  petulant  affection,  one  of  them  being 
a  revelation  of  '''■V affair  Lai-chmotity 

First  greetings  being  over,  this  \\\,\X^ poseuse  affects  a 
jealousy  she  does  not  feel.  She  pouts  and  mutters, 
"You  came  not  to  Panama,  Fernando  viio,  as  soon  as 
you  promised."  Then  her  eyes  flash  from  absinthe  or 
some  other  French  passion,  and  she  cries,  "  Ah  !  It  is 
that  little  minx  of  the  Boulevard  Malesherbes !  But  I'll 
teach  her  when  I  go  back  !  " 

"  I  pray  you  not  to  mention  that  young  lady's  name  !  " 
says  the  Baron,  looking  at  her  rather  curiously. 

'"  Tut !  Tut  !  What  do  I  care  for  those  savage  eyes 
of  yours.  Monsieur  le  Baroji  ?  "  laughs  the  lady.  "  I  can 
have  other  admirers  !  "  As  she  easily  can  ;  for  even 
now  she  makes  a  most  alluring  appearance,  her  costume 
de  theatre  being  such  as  to  display  beauties  of  the  figure 
as  well  as  the  face ;  of  which  Bebe  de  Champs  Elysees  has 
many,  though  most  of  them  are  of  the  "  Robert  le 
Diable  "  enchantress  order. 

But  Montez  not  answering  her,  she  babbles  on,  "  You 
don't  believe  me  !     You  have  not  yet  heard  of  the  hand- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I  79 

some  young  American  whose  eyes  are  as  bright  and  big 
as  your  friend  Herr  Wernig's,  though  mon  Henri's  are 
straight,  not  crooked." 

"  Mon  Henri's,"  mutters  the  Baron,  giving  her  an  under 
glance. 

"  Yes,  mon  Henri,  who  is  wild  with  love  for  me.  So 
^"Virild,  he  offered  me  a  great  string  of  pearls  worth  a  for- 
tune.    But  for  your  sake,  ingrate,  I  repulsed  him  !  " 

"  Ha,  ah  !  ma  chere  !  That  means,  you  want  a  string  of 
pearls  I "  laughs  Fernando,  who  knows  this  lady's  tricks 
and  manners  very  well. 

"I  do!  "  answers  Bebe,  "but  not  from  him  !  Had  I 
wished  them  from  him,  they  would  have  been  mine  !  I 
think,  from  certain  hints  of  his,  he  wanted  some  revela- 
tion from  me.  A  revealing  of  some  of  your  careless 
remarks  over  supper  table  and  champagne  glass,  of  your 
connection  in  business  with  his  brother.  Monsieur  Fran- 
cois Larchmont." 

"  Larchmont  !  "  cries  Montez.  "  Oh,  it  is  that  younger 
brother  who  has  come  here  to  the  Isthmus?  " 

"  Certainement !  " 

This  suggestion  makes  Fernando  very  serious.  Though 
Montez  is  a  great  man,  like  most  great  men  he  has  a 
weakness.  A  drop  of  blood  from  a  Gascon  adventurer 
in  his  polyhsema  veins,  makes  his  tongue  over  a  cham- 
pagne glass  sometimes  throw  away  careless  hints  of 
things  it  were  wiser  not  to  speak  of.  This  is  especially 
his  nature  when  he  has  been  triumphant  ;  and  he  has 
been  triumphant  so  many  times  over  the  careless  trust  of 
Franyois  Leroy  Larchmont,  that  he  fears  he  may  have 
dropped  some  suggestion  that  the  lady  beside  him  might 
under  duress,  or  lured  by  gold,  betray.  And  did  she  but 
know  it,  poor  laughing  mechante  Bebe's  tongue  has  been 
doing  some  industrious  work  on  her  sepulchre  just 
now. 

Baron  Montez  looks  at  her  curiously,  then  as  she 
stands  babbling  to  him,  waiting  for  her  cue  at  the  side 
scene,  puts  off  this  short-skirted,  white-shouldered  siren 
with  a  few  careless  words  ;  and  shortly  after,  leading  his 
Fidus  Achates^  Herr  Wernig,  from  the  theatre,  plies  him 
with  some  very  pertinent  questions  about  the  young 
American,  as  they  stroll  towards  the  Plaza. 

After  getting  his  answers,  Fernando  gives  a  chuckle 


l8o         '  BARON    MONTEZ. 

and  ejaculates  :  "  Parbleu !  This  young  bantam  has 
come  to  fight  me  on  my  own  dunghill  !  " 

Then  he  listens  in  an  abstracted  way  as  Herr  Wernig 
goes  on  in  further  explanation  :  "  You  wrote  me  about 
him.  I  watched  him  carefully.  He  is  supposed  to  be 
a  clerk  in  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company's  office, 
but  he  does  as  he  pleases.  He  also  had  quite  a  flirta- 
tion on  the  Colon  coming  out,  with  that  pretty  stenog- 
rapher in  your  office." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  remarks  Montez,  "the  girl  I  saw  this  after- 
noon. I  remember  I  told  our  agents  in  New  York  to 
engage  one.  I  thought  an  American  would  be  less 
dangerous  than  a  French  one  to  our  confidential  com- 
munications. Personally,  I  always  write  my  own  letters 
of  importance,  but  poor  Aguilla  is  not  good  with  his  pen, 
and  requires  a  correspondent." 

"  Poor  Aguilla  ?  Rich  Aguilla  !  He's  your  partner," 
laughs  the  German. 

Here  from  out  Montez'  white  teeth  issues  a  contemptu- 
ous "  Bah  !  "  and  Herr  Wernig,  after  a  pause  of  thought, 
gives  a  little  giggle. 

"  As  to  the  young  lady  stenographer,  I  will  ask  her 
some  questions  in  the  morning.  You  say  she  was  ^pj-is 
with  this  Larchmont  ? "  murmers  Fernando,  puffing  his 
cigarette  very  slowly. 

"  Oh,  very  much,  but  there  has  been  some  trouble. 
She  has  not  spoken  to  him  since  they  left  the  steamer. 
I  saw  her  cut  him  very  directly  on  the  Battery  last 
Sunday,  when  he  was  walking  with  Mademoiselle  Bebe, 
for  whom  I  understand  he  bought  the  big  pearls,  but 
did  not  deliver  them." 

Into  this  Montez  suddenly  cuts  :  "  You  leave  to- 
morrow morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  by  a  quick  steamer  to  St.  Thomas,  and  then  to 
Paris." 

"Of  course  !  to  add  your  weight,  Wernig,  to  the 
Lottery  Bill  that  is  to  permit  the  Canal  here  to  make  one 
last  big  gasp  before  it  " — here  Fernando  lowers  his  voice 
— "  dies." 

"  Certainly  !  " 

"  You  need  have  no  fear.  The  bill  will  go  through 
the  Corps  L^gislatif.  Then  a  spark  of  life,  but  after  a 
little  time  there  will  be  an  end  of  the  ditch.     However, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  161 

it  is  very  important  that  this  Lottery  Bill  pass,  for  you 
and  for  me.  By  it  we  will  get  the  moneys  due  us  from 
the  Panama  Canal  Company,  which  are  at  present  delin- 
quent.    After  that  no  more  contracts  for  me  I  " 

''  For  me  also  !  "  laughs  the  German.  "  Don't  you 
think  I  have  seen  this  as  well  as  you  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  have  come  here  to  clean  up — so  you  need 
not  return  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  done  so  pretty  effectually." 

'*  I  am  here  to  clean  up  also,  and  very  thoroughly.  If 
the  Lottery  Bill  did  not  go  through,  work  would  stop 
here  at  once,  and  there  are  some  in  this  dirty  little  town 
who  w^ould  call  themselves  my  dupes,  and  perhaps  wish 
my  blood — the  blood  of  poor,  scapegoat  Montez — the 
innocent  blood  !  But  in  two  months  I  shall  be  safely 
out  of  all  this,  so  m've  la   loterief" 

"  I  wonder  you  did  not  remain  in  Paris  till  the  bill 
passed  !  "  says  Wernig  inquisitively. 

'^  That  was  impossible  !  "  returns  Fernando.  "  Besides  " 
— here  he  whispers  to  the  German  who  bursts  into  a 
guffaw  and  cries,  "  What  !     The  Franco-American  !  " 

"Yes  !  He  is  doing  the  buying  ;  he  is  at  my  sugges- 
tion making  himself  amenable  to  French  law.  But  you 
leave  to-morrow  morning  for  Colon,"  continues  the 
Baron.  "  I  must  bid  you  adieu  to-night.  I  am  not  an 
early  riser." 

Then  the  two  go  into  some  more  private  confidences, 
but  as  Montez  bids  Wernig  good-night,  he  whispers  these 
curious  words  :  "  In  a  month  you  will  see  me  in  Paris. 
In  a  week  or  two  I  shall  be  away  from  here,  and  leave 
nothing  behind  me — nothing.'" 

Then  looking  around,  he  waves  his  hand  with  foreign 
gesticulation,  and  laughs  :  "  I  will  have  eaten  them  all 
up — I  have  such  a  big  appetite  !  " 

And. the  German  seizes  his  hand  and  chuckles  :  ''And 
so  have  I,  my  brother  ! " 

So  after  a  farewell  glass  of  wine  at  the  Cafe  Bethan- 
court,  these  two  part,  with  many  expressions  of  mutual 
esteem,  and  many  foreign  embraces,  and  even  kisses, 
they  so  adore  each  other  ;  though  Wernig  has  made  up 
his  mind  to  eat  Montez,  and  Montez  has  made  up  his 
mind  to  devour  Wernig. 

Far   away   Australia,   among   other  wondrous    birds, 


l82  BARON    MONTEZ. 

beasts,  fishes,  and  reptiles,  has  given  birth  to  a  most 
marvellous  insect — the  Vadalia  Cardinxlis  !  Its  appetite 
is  phenomenal,  its  voracity  beyond  description.  Though 
not  destructive  to  vegetable  life,  were  it  large  enough, 
it  would  eat  the  entire  animal  world. 

There  is  also  a  lazy  lower  order  of  insect  that  lives 
dreamily  upon  the  leaves  of  the  orange-trees  of  Califor- 
nia, known  by  the  name  of  the  Cottony  Scale.  Its  form 
of  life  is  so  low  that  it  seems  more  a  white  incrustation 
on  the  beautiful  plants  than  an  insect  who  lives  upon 
their  leaves  and  life. 

Into  the  orange  orchard,  dying  from  myriads  of  Cot- 
tony Scale,  the  planter  lets  loose  a  few  Vadalia  Cardmali. 
These  prey  upon  and  eat  up  the  lazy  white  Cottony  Scale 
with  incredible  rapidity,  and  the  beautiful  plants,  bereft 
of  what  is  drawing  their  life  away,  survive  and  flourish. 
But  after  the  Vadalia  Cardinali  have  eaten  up  all  the 
Cottony  Scale  insects  in  the  orange  plantation,  with  in- 
credible voracity  they  fall  upon  and  devour  each  other, 
and  the  survivors  again  devour.  Each  hour  they  become 
fewer  and  fewer,  until  there  are  but  two  Vadalia  Cardi- 
nali left.  And  these  two  battle  and  fight  with  each 
other  till  one  is  victorious  and  destroys  and  devours  his 
opponent.  And  from  that  orchard  that  once  was  white 
with  myriads  of  Cottony  Scale  glistening  in  the  tropical 
sun,  and  here  and  there  a  red  spot  of  Vadalia  Cardinali, 
but  one  insect  crawls  away,  seeking  for  further  prey  for 
his  all-devouring  jaws — one  Vadalia  Cardinalis I 

Such  an  insect  is  Baron  Montez  of  Panama.  He  has 
already  eaten  up  and  destroyed  outside  stockholders 
and  investors  in  Panama  securities — the  weaklings,  the 
Cottony  Scales — such  as  Frangois  Leroy  Larchmont  and 
Bastien  Lefort.  Having  devoured  the  Cottony  Scales, 
he  is  now  about  to  eat  his  own  breed — his  partner  Aguilla, 
his  old  chum  Wernig,  his  early  companion  Domingo  the 
ex-pirate,  who  has  invested  his  savings  under  Montez' 
advice,  and  half  a  hundred  other  cronies  of  his,  who 
have  assisted  in  his  work  of  despoiling  the  lower  order 
of  animal  life.  He  will  be  the  only  Vadalia  Cardinalis^ 
who  will  leave  his  own  particular  plantation  on  the  orange 
farm  called  the  Canal  Interoceanic. 

Perchance  he  would  be  wiser,  perchance  he  would  have 
less<:are,  perchance  he  would  be  more  successful,  if  he 


BARON    MONTEZ.  1 83 

let  a  few  others  save  himself  have  a  little  of  the  pickings 
of  his  schemes  ;  for  even  Cottony  Scale  bugs  writhe  in 
anguish  sometimes,  and  some  of  the  men  he  is  about  to 
devour  are  Vadalia  Cardinally  ferocious,  implacable,  and 
cunning.  For  instance,  Domingo  the  ex-pirate,  and 
Aguilla,  who  has  swindled  many  in  his  time  in  his  honest 
bourgeois  way.  But  to  eat  all  is  Montez'  nature  ;  he  is  a 
Vadalia  Cardlnalls. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

babe's  little  present. 

Some  instances  of  this  come  under  Miss  Minturn's 
bright  eyes  the  next  morning,  in  the  office.  Old  Aguilla 
is  still  smiling,  happy  and  contented,  but  after  a  short 
but  excited  private  conversation  with  the  Baron,  who 
has  come  in  languidly  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  junior 
partner  appears  anxious,  distrait^  nervous,  and  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  Never  mind,  my  old  man,"  laughs  Montez,  looking 
on  Aguilla's  gloomy  face.  "  The  Corps  Leglslatlf  will 
surely  pass  the  Lottery  Bill,  and  then  all  will  be  well." 

Reassured  by  this,  Aguilla  goes  about  his  business. 
But  a  few  minutes  after,  there  is  a  terrible  commotion 
in  the  office.  Bastien  Lefort  has  been  admitted  to  the 
private  office  of  Baron  Montez. 

He  is  screaming  at  him  so  everybody  hears:  '^ Mon 
Dieu  !  You  have  come  at  last !  I  have  been  waiting 
for  you  !  You  !  You  !  !  who  lured  me  to  invest  my 
all  in  this  bubble  of  extravagance  !  One  hundred 
thousand  francs  for  this  !  A  million  for  that !  All  thrown 
away  !  Rascality  and  fraud  !  Sacre  nam  de  Dleu  I  the 
savings  of  a  lifetime  !  " 

He  shrieks  this  out  so  wildly  that  the  clerks  run  into 
the  private  office,  thinking  him  a  madman  who  will  per- 
chance attack  the  Baron. 

Montez,  cool  and  calm,  says  :  "  Restrain  yourself  I 
Mon  cher  Lefort,  this  is  nonsense  !  Are  not  your  divi- 
dends paid  you  regularly  .?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dividends,"  groans  the  man.  "  But  the 
principal  !     The  Canal  will  never  be  built !  " 


184  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !    The  Lottery  Bill  will  pass  next  month 

— and  then,  my  boy,  then  !  " 

"  But  my  shares  have  gone  down  so  much  ! 

"  Oh,  but  then,  the  Lottery  Bill,  then— wait !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  murmurs  Lefort.  *'  I  cannot 
understand  !  " 

*'  Of  course  not.  You  are  not  a  financier,  you  are  a 
glove-merchant.  Leave  it  to  me  !  Place  yourself  in  my 
hands — the  Lottery  Bill — go  back  to  Paris — remain  quiet 
— the  Lottery  !     All  will  be  well !  " 

"  Oh,  but  the  extravagance — the  throwing  away  of 
precious  gold  !  "  murmurs  Lefort  undecidedly. 

"  You  speak  to  me  as  if  I  were  one  of  the  directors," 
remarks  Montez,  "  when  I  am  but  a  stockholder  like 
yourself.  We  are  both  stockholders  !  Still,  when  we  are 
in  Paris,  we  will  go  to  the  directors  and  explain  to  them 
things  that  they  do  not  know  ;  or  perhaps  you  had  better 
remain  here,  and  keep  me  posted  when  I  go  to  head- 
quarters in  Paris.     I  will  see  you  again." 

And  he  puts  off  the  broken-down  miser  with  fairy  prom- 
ises, until  the  old  man  smiles  and  says  :  "  Yes  !  Yes  ! 
my  dividends — I  still  receive  them  !  I  will  still  believe  !  " 
and  so  goes  away. 

Then  Montez  devotes  himself  to  his  private  correspond- 
ence, taking  great  care  over  one  long  letter,  during  the 
writing  of  which  he  sometimes  refers  to  a  large  black 
pocketbook  that  he  produces  from  an  inner  pocket  of  his 
vest,  not  his  coat.  This  appears  to  be  filled  with  papers 
and  memoranda.  When  he  has  finished  with  it,  he  returns 
it  very  carefully  to  his  safe  vest  pocket  again. 

All  this  comes  under  Louise's  bright  eyes,  as  she  is 
seated  at  her  typewriter  in  the  room  behind  the  private 
office.  The  day  is  hot,  and  the  door  has  been  left  open 
for  draught.  Miss  Minturn  has  set  herself  to  watch  this 
man  she  suspects,  and  now  that  he  is  near  her,  though 
the  keys  of  her  Remington  click  unceasingly,  every  sense 
is  alert  as  to  what  passes  at  Montez'  desk. 

A  few  moments  after,  she  comes  face  to  face  with  him, 
and  his  easy,  affable  manner  interests  her  as  well  as  as- 
tonishes her. 

After  finishing  his  private  correspondence,  Fernando 
calls  in  Miss  Minturn,  and  dictates  a  few  unimportant 
letters  to  her  ;  most  of  them  being  in  response  to  invita- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  185 

tions  to  dinners  and  fetes  from  the  resident  managers 
of  the  Canal  as  well  as  a  few  other  local  magnates  of 
finance  and  trade  in  this  town  of  Panama. 

The  last  of  these  finished,  as  Louise  is  about  to  go,  he 
asks  her  a  few  questions  :  how  she  likes  Panama — is  she 
pleasantly  located  in  the  house  of  Martinez,  the  notary — 
she  boards  there,  he  understands — and  hopes  she  will 
enjoy  herself  upon  the  Isthmus,  and  that  her  labors  will 
not  be  too  severe. 

He  would,  in  his  quiet  off-hand  way,  get  a  good  deal 
of  information  from  her,  were  the  young  lady  not  en 
garde ;  but  she  simply  thanks  him  for  his  interest  in  her 
comfort,  and  turns  to  go. 

Just  here  a  sudden  idea  seems  to  enter  his  head.  He 
calls  out  after  her  :  "  By  the  by,  Miss  Minturn,  do  you 
known  the  address  of  Monsieur  Henri  Larchmont  ? " 

"  No,"  replies  the  girl,  suddenly  returning. 

"  Ah,  I'm  sorry.  I  would  have  sent  him  a  letter  I 
have  for  him  from  his  brother  Fran9ois  in  Paris.  He 
intrusted  it  to  me." 

"  Why  did  you  think  I  knew  Mr.  Larchmont's  ad- 
dress ? "  asks  Louise,  hurriedly,  her  cheeks  growing  a 
little  red. 

"  Oh  !  ha  !  ha  !  My  friend  Herr  Wernig  said  you  and 
the  gentleman  were  quite  companions  on  the  steamer." 

"  Since  the  steamer,  I  have  not  seen  him,"  says  Louise  ; 
an  intonation  in  her  voice,  Fernando  does  not  quite 
understand. 

"  So  your  comradeship  ceased  at  the  gang-plank.  It 
often  does  !  "  laughs  the  Baron  languidly.  Then  he  con- 
tinues :  "  Doubtless  it  is  just  as  well.  Monsieur  Henri  is 
rather  a  gay  youth.  Besides,  I  think  there  is  a  pretty 
Miss  Jessie  Severn  in  Paris.  Eh,  mademoiselle  !  "  And 
would  go  on,  a  little  banter  in  his  tone,  but  the  girl's 
face  astonishes  him. 

She  mutters  :  ''  I  beg  you  leave  my  private  affairs 
alone  !  "  Then  for  one  second  there  comes  over  her  fair 
face  an  awful  look — one  he  has  seen  before  somewhere — 
a  look  that  opens  the  pages  of  his  memory. 

"  Have  you  any  other  letters  ? " 

"  No,  not  to-day,"  he  stammers  as  she  leaves  him. 

He  thinks  :  ''  What  was  that  in  her  eyes— so  hke  the 
eyes  of  the  American  senora  of  thirty  years  ago  ?     But 


1 86  BARON    MONTEZ. 

this  girl's  eyes  are  brown,  not  the  bUie  eyes  that  I  love  ! 
Besides,  Alicia  had  blonde  hair  that  I  adore  !  Pooh  ! 
Let  the  past  be  the  past  !  " 

And  he  thinks  of  other  blue  eyes — those  of  the  present 
— that  he  hopes  to  go  back  to,  and  the  lovely  rebellious 
face  of  pretty  pouting  Jessie  Severn,  whom  he  has  left  in 
far-away  Paris,  with  a  weak  guardian  even  more  in  his 
power  than  ever,  who  has  said,  when  Montez  returns  the 
reluctant  beauty  shall  be  his  bride. 

He  mutters  :  ''When  I  come  back,  she  is  mine,  and 
that  must  be  very  soon.  I  have  here  a  letter!"  He 
looks  at  the  one  he  has  been  writing,  "  but  mails  are  slow. 
I  will  send  a  telegram." 

Which  he  does,  addressed  to  Francois  Leroy  Larch- 
mont,  2383^  Boulevard  Malesherbes,  Paris. 

Then  calling  a  clerk  he  says  :  "  Cable  that  on  the 
instant !  "  and  goes  to  musing  again  :  "  I  wonder  what 
the  woman  did  with  the  string  of  pearls  that  I  never 
could  fmd  ?  Did  Domingo  steal  them  ?  Ah— but  what 
matters  it  ?  " 

Then  a  smile  passes  over  his  face,  and  he  laughs. 
"This  American  stenographer  is  jealous  of  Jessie  Severn  ! 
Why  ?  Because  this  young  dandy — this  brother  of 
Francois  Leroy  Larchmont— loves  my  Jiancc'e.  For  what 
reason  does  he  come  to  the  Isthmus  ?  To  destroy  me  so 
that  he  can  wed  her  ?  " 

Then  suddenly  the  undying  hate  of  Corsican  blood 
comes  into  Montez'  face,  mixed  with  the  drop  of  in- 
flexible determination  descended  to  him  from  Morgan's 
buccaneer,  as  he  mutters  :  "  I  have  it !  He  stays  on  the 
Isthmus  !  Like  the  man  who  bought  pearls  thirty  years 
ago,  the  man  who  buys  pearls  now,  remains  !  I  will  fix 
him  !     Cararnba  !     But  I  will  fix  him!'' 

He  muses  a  little  while  over  this  ;  then  sends  for  the 
Chinaman  who  attends  to  the  real-estate  affairs  of  the 
firm,  and  makes  some  inquiries  about  certain  properties 
belonging  to  them  in  Panama.  After  hearing  the  report 
of  the  Celestial  clerk,  a  grim  smile  passes  over  his  face, 
and  he  thinks  laughingly  :  "■  It  is  not  always  you  can  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone  !  " 

Mademoiselle  Bebe  de  Champs  Elyseeshas  been  rather 
exigeant  in  the  last  few  months.  She  has  reproached 
her  dear  Baron  several  times,  with  not  being  as  liberal 


BARON    MONTEZ.  187 

as  he  used  to  be.  She  has  complained  that  his  devotion 
to  Mademoiselle  Jessie  Severn,  the  ward  of  his  friend 
Francois  Leroy  Larchmont,  has  made  him  more  provident 
of  his  pocketbook  than  was  his  wont. 

Her  hint  the  evening  before,  at  the  theatre,  makes  him 
fear  that  he  may  have  some  time,  in  careless  confidence, 
(propped  into  her  ear  secrets  that  may  be  dangerous  to 
him  in  Paris  ;  for  he  knows  the  time  is  approaching  when 
there  will  be  such  an  explosion  about  Panama  Canal 
affairs  that  will  make  any  scandal  fatal. 

Mademoiselle  Bebe  de  Champs  Elysees  is  returning  to 
Paris.  If  his  coming  marriage  enrages  her — if  she  can 
find  a  higher  bidder  for  any  secrets  of  his  that  may  be  of 
advantage  to  his  enemies,  he  knows  very  well  she  will 
sell  them. 

Meditating  on  this,  he  takes  Mademoiselle  Bebe  out 
for  a  drive  this  afternoon,  over  the  savanna,  on  his  return 
passing  near  the  outskirts  of  the  town  a  very  pretty  little 
villa. 

While  they  have  been  approaching  this  place,  the 
Baron  and  his  fair  companion  have  been  engaged  in  a 
somewhat  acrimonious  discussion. 

Mademoiselle  has  been  pouting  and  chiding  :  ''  You 
come  to  see  me  no  more  !  You  only  remained  at  the 
theatre  a  few  minutes  last  evening  !  You  brought  me 
no  jewels  from  Paris  !  "  Then  she  has  suddenly  cried 
out  :  "  Ah,  it  is  because  of  that  designing  young  Ameri- 
can— the  one  it  is  rumored  in  Paris  you  are  to  marry. 
Do  you  think  your  Bebe  will  let  you  desert  her  so  easily 
— mon  cher  2  " 

''  Diable  !  ma  petite  !  "  says  the  Baron  grimly,  "  not 
while  I  have  any  money  left." 

Next  he  smiles  and  says  :  "  But  you  can  have  many 
more  admirers — this  Monsieur  Larchmont — he  adored 
you  ? " 

"  Adored  me  !  "  cries  Bebe  ;  "  he  adores  me  still — he 
worships  me  !  " 

"  You  have  but  to  speak  the  word — he  will  come  back 
to  you  ? " 

"Would  not  he — if  I  would  let  h'm  !  But  then,  Fer- 
nando mio,  it  would  break  your  heart  !  "  babbles  Bebe, 
her  vanity  destroying  the  truth.  She  would  go  on  and 
lie  a  little  more,  did  not   she   suddenly  stop   and  cry  ; 


l88  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  "  for  the  Baron  can't  keep 
in  a  diabolical  chuckle. 

"  Only  my  little  joke  !  "  murmurs  Fernando.  But  had 
she  known  what  Fernando's  little  joke  meant,  poor  little 
Bebe  would  have  plucked  out  her  pretty  red  tongue 
from  between  her  rows  of  pearly  teeth,  rather  than  have 
told  vainglorious  lies,  each  one  of  which  is  a  nail  in  her 
coffin. 

"You  reproach  me  for  not  being  generous,"  grins 
the  Baron,  "  when  I  have  a  present  all  ready  for  you." 

'^  What,  in  your  pocket  ?  "  cries  Bebe  enthusiastically, 
about  to  make  sudden  investigation  for  hidden  jewels. 

"  Oh,  no  !     It  is  not  in  my  pockets." 

"  Then  where  is  it  ?  " 

"  On  the  mound  there  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  that  pretty  little  villa.  It  is  yours,  if  you  wish," 
and  Fernando  points. 

"  You  will  give  it  to  me?" 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  more  pleasant  for  you  than  your 
apartments  at  the  hotel,  and  more  private.  You  shall 
have  a  pony-carriage  to  drive  out  there." 

"  Oh,  you  darling  !  "  cries  Bebe,  clapping  her  little 
Parisian  gloves  together  with  joy.  "  Let  me  look  at 
your  new  present  !     Is  it  furnished  ? " 

"  I  think  so." 

There  is  a  little  pathway  running  from  the  road,  and 
the  negro  coachman  stops  his  horses  at  some  distance  one 
side  of  the  door. 

Fernando  scowls  at  the  lackey  but  says  nothing,  and 
assists  Mademoiselle  Bebe  out.     It  is  but  a  step. 

The  Baron  has  the  keys  in  his  pocket.  Entering,  they 
examine  a  very  pretty  MJou  of  a  tropic  residence,  quite 
handsomely  furnished  in  modern  French  style,  which 
had  been  occupied  by  Monsieur  Raymond,  one  of  the 
engineers  of  the  Panama  Canal  ;  but  he  and  all  his 
family  have  died  some  weeks  before,  of  yellow  fever. 

Montez  has  no  hesitation  in  entering  it.  He  knows 
the  pathology  of  the  disease  too  well ;  that  any  one  who 
has  once  had  this  scourge  and  lived,  is  safe  from  it  for- 
ever afterwards.  And  Fernando,  in  his  early  Isthmus 
days,  had  passed  a  few  weary  weeks  recovering  from  the 
touch  of  Yellow  Jack. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  189 

"  How  beautiful  !  "  cries  the  lady,  clapping  her  hands. 
He  says  :  ^^Ma  cherie^  you  like  this  ? " 
"  It  is  delightful  !  " 

'^  Here  you  can  have  your  own  little  parties — here  you 
can  invite  Monsieur  Larchmont  to  call  on  you." 

Then  noting  reluctance  on  the  lady's  face,  the  Baron 

foes  on  laughingly  :  "  Do  not  hesitate — I  do  not  mind  it ! 
n  fact,  it  will  be  a  favor  to  me.  I  would  like  to  meet  this 
gentleman.  There  are  certain  facts  about  his  brother,  of 
which  1  shall  ask  you  to  pump  him.  Your  Fernando  is 
not  jealous.     Is  it  a  little  compact  between  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  laughs  Bebe.  "  I  would  do  anything 
for  this  villa  !  Monsieur  Larchmont  shall  reveal  to  me 
everything  you  wish  to  know  !  Now,  mon  cher,  our  little 
dinner." 

So  he  and  the  lady  leave  the  house,  and  drive  through 
the  streets  of  Panama  to  the  Plaza,  and  from,  there  on  the 
road  out  to  La  Boca,  where,  at  the  Garden  of  Para- 
dise, with  its  palms  and  tropic  foliage  growing  in  its 
miniature  glen.  Mademoiselle  Bebe  and  Baron  Montez 
have  one  of  Monsieur  Clement's  charming  petite  repasts 
with  sparkling  wine  that  makes  Bebe  very  brilliant.  Then 
Fernando  murmurs  :  "  It  is  time  for  the  theatre,  ma 
petite^  And  the  two  return  to  town,  Montez  appearing 
in  a  very  good  humor,  and  Bebe  being  a  mass  of  smiles 
of  delighted  avarice,  and  of  newly  acquired  wealth. 

The  next  day  Fernando  Montez,  having  made  all  the  ar- 
rangements, Mademoiselle  de  Champs  Elysees  is  installed 
in  the  Villa  Raymond.  There  is  little  or  no  trouble  about 
servants,  the  Chinese  clerk  who  attends  to  the  real-estate 
affairs  of  the  firm  has  hired  them  with  Celestial  astute- 
ness, engaging  only  those  who  have  passed  through  the 
yellow  fever,  and  therefore  do  not  fear  it. 

Mademoiselle  Bebe  enjoys  her  triumphs  at  the  theatre 
each  evening,  and  drives  out  therefrom  to  the  pretty  cot- 
tage that  has  as  many  germs  of  Yellow  Jack  and  el  vom- 
ito  negro  in  its  cedar  walls,  as  it  has  crevices  to  hold 
them. 

Each  day  La  Champs  Elysees  expects  to  see  among  her 
admirers  at  the  theatre,  Harry  Larchmont,  for  she  has 
written  him  another  pressing  letter,  begging  him  to  come 
to  see  her  at  the  Villa  Raymond,  and  hinting  that  even 
without  the  pearls,  he  will  be  very  welcome  at  her  side. 


1 9©  BARON    MONTEZ. 

But  Harry  Larchmont  is  upon  the  works  of  the  Canal, 
poor  fellow,  on  another  wild-goose  chase.  For  here, 
though  he  discovers  that  there  is  lots  of  rascality  and 
swindling  in  the  various  contracts  of  the  Canal  Inter- 
oceanic,  still  there  is  nothing  that  will  bring  anything  defi- 
nite home  to  Baron  Montez,  or  to  his  firm.  Is'othing  by 
which  he,  by  any  perad venture,  can  wring  back  from 
Fernando  the  fortunes  of  his  brother  or  Miss  Severn. 

He  has  gone  into  this  affair  seriously,  and  has  spent 
some  time  making  his  investigation  a  thorough  one. 
He  has  passed  twenty-four  hours  with  Winterburn  on  his 
Chagres  dredger,  learning  all  the  machinist  can  tell  him 
of  the  workings  of  the  Canal.  The  dredgers,  he  notes, 
are  doing  their  work  thoroughly.  The  American  Com- 
pany is  keeping  its  contract. 

Then  he  has  passed  along  to  the  more  difficult  work, 
the  big  mountain  cuts.  He  has  pumped  the  foremen  of 
the  various  gangs  of  laborers,  drawing  information  from 
them,  by  his  pleasant  address,  and  his  generous  use  of 
cigars,  and  noting  with  astonishment  that  they  are  doing 
their  work  pretty  much  after  antique  methods;  that  if  they 
have  any  steam  drills  or  modern  appliances  very  few  if 
any  are  used  ;  that  like  the  Pharaohs  of  Egypt  and  Louis 
Fourteenth  of  France,  the  contractors  of  this  nineteenth- 
century  achivement  depend  upon  the  myriad  hands  of 
men. 

One  night  during  his  investigation,  one  long  night,  cut 
off  by  a  rain-storm,  he  has  been  compelled  to  pass  in  a 
cabin  near  the  great  cut  of  Culebra,  with  a  foreman  of 
one  of  the  gangs. 

This  has  been  with  particularly  bad  physical  results  as 
regards  himself,  for  in  the  same  cabin  had  been  care- 
lessly left  an  open  can  of  nitro-glycerine,  the  fumes  of 
which  give  headaches  such  as  mortal  man  cannot  endure, 
but  mortal  man  remembers  forever.  They  are  of  a 
peculiar  kind — once  felt,  never  forgotten. 

From  this  journey,  Harry  has  returned  to  Panama  with 
a  downcast  heart,  knowing  that  there  is  lots  of  rascality 
in  the  atmosphere,  but  feeling  that  he  is  grasping  at 
air. 

He  is  sure  of  one  thing,  and  that  is,  that  any  dollars 
his  brother  may  have  put  into  the  Canal  Interoceanic 
are  as  much  lost,  from  an  industrial  investment  stand- 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I9I 

point,  as  if  he  had  thrown  his  money  into  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  itself. 

So  as  Larchmont  enters  the  Grand  Hotel,  immediately 
on  his  return,  he  has  about  made  up  his  mind,  in  a  half 
broken-hearted  way,  to  give  up  the  affair  entirely — to 
devote  the  great  part  of  his  fortune  to  giving  Miss  Jessie 
^l}er  inheritance,  saving  his  brother's  name,  and — but  he 
will  not  think  of  this. 

He  meditates  wildly  :  ^'  I  must  see  her  !  I  must  try 
and  explain  !  I  cannot  go  with  Louise  thinking  me  what 
she  does  ! "  Then  he  jeers  himself  :  "  She'll  never 
believe  me  !  No  woman  w^ould  ! — and  I  doubt  if  any 
man  !  "  and  so  goes  to  the  office  of  the  hotel. 

Here  he  is  very  affably  received  by  the  clerk,  who 
hands  him  two  letters  addressed  in  a  French  feminine 
hand  he  does  not  know. 

He  opens  them  wonderingly.  They  are  both  in  the 
same  bold  yet  dainty  chirography,  and  from  Mademoiselle 
Bebe.  The  first  begs  him  to  come  and  see  her  and  bring 
the  pearls.  The  second  sings  the  same  tune,  but  tells 
him  she  lives  at  the  Villa  Raymond,  and  she  will  forgive 
and  love  him  without  the  pearls. 

To  these  he  mutters,  "  Never  !  "  As  he  turns  away 
from  this,  for  there  is  a  commotion  outside.  He  looks 
out. 

It  is  a  funeral  procession,  large  and  impressive,  wend- 
ing its  way  to  the  great  Cathedral,  for  the  ceremonials  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  in  these  South  American  countries, 
are  ofttimes  grand  and  imposing.  Otherwise,  this  one 
would  create  no  commotion,  for  there  are  a  great  many 
funerals  about  this  time,  in  the  town  of  Panama. 

Turning  to  the  clerk,  Harry  asks:  "Who  of  impor- 
tance has  died  lately  ?     Whose  death  march  is  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  !  "  says  the  clerk,  "■  have  you  not  seen  the 
mortuary  placards  and  heard  the  news  ?  That  is  the 
funeral  procession  of  Mademoiselle  Bebe  de  Champs 
Elysees,  of  the  Theatre.  The  careless,  thoughtless 
creature  went  to  live  in  the  infected  Villa  Raymond. 
She  took  the  yellow  fever  four  days  ago,  and  died  this 
morning." 

Then  the  clerk  wonders  whether  Mr.  Larchmont  has 
not  the  yellow  fever  also,  for  he  has  grown  deathly  pale, 
and  almost  staggers,  and  is  muttering  to  himself  :  "  Good 


192  BARON    MONTEZ. 

heavens  !  if  the  scorn  of  that  pure  American  girl  had  not 
come  between  me  and  her — I  should  have  visited  the 
Villa  Raymond — and  perchance  been  in  my  coffin  also." 

Looking  on  this  procession — the  lighted  candles  and 
solemn  black,  the  Baron  Montez,  who  acts  as  chief 
mourner,  smiles  to  himself,  and  murmurs  :  "  Bebe'e  little 
present  disagreed  with  her  !  But  that  Larchmont — he 
escaped  me  I  " 

This  seems  to  affect  Fernando's  spirits,  for  he  is  super- 
stitious, as  he  says  to  himself  :  '^  Is  it  a  premonition  ? 
Will  he  conquer  in  the  end  ? " 

So  returning  from  his  solemn  duties,  he  seems  to  be 
very  sad.     His  spirits  have  left  him. 

So  much  so  that  old  Aguilla,  who  has  a  tender  heart, 
pats  him  on  the  shoulder  with  his  fat  bourgeois  hand,  say- 
ing :  "  My  poor  boy — cheer  up  !  Cheer  up  !  We  know 
how  you  loved  her — but  courage,  7non  brave  !  " 

Soon  after  Montez  does  cheer  up,  for  this  very  after- 
noon he  hears  incidentally  that  Harry  Larchmont  is  sick, 
and  has  been  taken  to  the  rooms  of  one  of  the  clerks  in 
the  Pacific  Mail,  a  young  American,  George  Bovee,  who 
had  conceived  a  great  affection  for  him.  Though  he  is 
not  sick  of  the  yellow  fever,  his  exposure  in  the  open  cuts 
of  the  Canal,  full  of  the  miasma  from  decaying  vegeta- 
tion, has  brought  to  him  the  malarial  fever  of  Panama, 
which  is  sometimes  as  deadly  even  as  the  other. 

At  this,  the  Vadalia  Cardinalis'  step  grows  light,  and 
his  smile  more  baleful,  as  he  says  to  himself:  "I 
triumph  !     See  how  my  enemies  fall  before  me  !  " 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WHISPERS    OF    THE    DYING. 

Miss  MiNTURN  does  not  hear  of  Larchmont's  mishap 
SO  soon  as  Montez.  Her  labors  at  the  office  are  not 
great ;  but  outside  of  it,  sensation  has  come  to  her. 

On  the  very  day  of  the  Baron's  interview  with  her,  she 
returns  to  the  house  of  Martinez  for  her  afternoon  siesta^ 
but  instead  of  rest  receives  excitement. 

She  is  met  almost  at  the  door  by  Mrs.  Winterburn. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I93 

That  lady,  as  is  her  wont,  has  been  killing  the  long  hot 
day  by  rummaging  through  the  articles  in  her  husband's 
museum.  She  now  says  affrightedly  :  "  I've  been  wait- 
ing for  you  !  Come  in  with  me — there  is  something  in 
that  powder  canister  !  " 

"  What  powder  canister  ?  " 

"  The  one  imbedded  in  the  growing  branch  my  hus- 
band took  from  the  Chagres  River.  You  remember  what 
he  told  us  about  it  that  evening  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answers  Louise  carelessly,  "  but  I  am  tired. 
Why  not  tell  your  story  to  the  Senoritas  Martinez,  and 
keep  it  for  me  in  the  evening  ?  " 

"  The  Martinez  are  all  asleep.  Come  in  with  me — I 
want  you  to  see  what  there  is  in  it.  1  think  they  are 
valuable.  Besides  that,  there  is  a  wrhing  that  I  have 
not  read.  I  fear  it  is  a  will— that  the  pearls  will  not  be 
mine  honestly,"  says  the  woman. 

"  After  that  you  will  let  me  take  myself  to  my  darling 
hammock  ?  "  pouts  Louise,  anxious  for  beauty-sleep. 

"Yes." 

A  minute  after,  they  are  in  the  old  lumber-room,  and 
coming  to  the  branch  with  its  powder  canister,  Susie 
Winterburn  unscrews  the  lead  stopper  that  has  made  it 
ivatertight,  opens  it,  and  reveals  something  that  for  a 
moment  makes  Louise  give  a  cry  of  delighted  astonish- 
ment ;  then  afterwards  a  gasp  of  horror. 

She  takes  out  therefrom  a  long  string  of  beautiful 
white  pearls  that  glisten  even  in  the  subdued  light  of 
the  room.     These  are  wrapped  in  a  woman's  cuff. 

The  pearls  are  fresh  and  glistening  as  when  first 
plucked  from  ocean's  bed  ;  the  cuff  is  a  little  soiled  and 
yellow  by  age,  but  has  on  it  some  hasty  writing  in  red, 
that  has  been  scribbled  with  a  piece  of  pointed  wood,  or 
something  of  the  kind.  It  reads,  though  disjointedly, 
with  horrible  intelligence,  as  follows  : 

"  Come  to  my  aid — these  pearls  will  pay  you.  The  place  is  called 
Caperiha — I  am  in  a  hut  imprisoned  by  the  little  river. 

"  My  husband  was  killed  in  the  Pacific  Hotel,  Panama,  by  Montez 
and  Domingo. 

"  Domingo  watches  me,  and  is  my  jailer. 

"Come  quick!     To-night  he  comes  to  me — to-night  the  snake 

will  kill  me  ! 

"  Alicr  Riplry." 
13 


194  BARON    MONTEZ. 

These  letters  appear  to  be  in  red  ink,  but  as  the  girl 
examines  them,  she  shudders,  for  she  guesses  they  are  in 
the  blood  of  the  woman  who  wrote  them. 

She  has  read  this  aloud  in  her  agitation,  and  it  has 
produced  a  great  effect  upon  Mrs.  Winterburn.  That 
lady  says  :  "  When  do  you  think  it  was  written  ?  We 
must  alarm  the  authorities  !  " 

"  What  ?  To  rescue  a  woman  who  wrote  this  thirty 
years  ago  ? " 

''  Plow  do  you  know  it  was  so  long  ?" 

'•  Because  the  time  she  speaks  of  is  the  massacre  of 
1856 — April  15th — I  have  read  accounts  of  it  in  the 
Panama  Star.     I  know  all  about  it." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  that  ?  " 

"  How  ?  Because  the  handwriting  of  this  woman  is 
the  handwriting  of  my  murdered  relative,  Alice  Ripley, 
the  beautiful  wom.an  whose  picture  you  saw  at  the  villa 
of  Fernando  Montez — the  duplicate  of  which  I  brought 
with  me  from  New  York." 

"  Oh,  sakes  of  mercy  !     What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Avenge  her  !  "  answers  Louise  in  strident  voice. 
Then  she  mutters  dejectedly  :  "  But  first  I  must  find  out 
more  about  the  matter." 

"  Then  why  not  ask  my  husband  ?  He  knows  most 
everything  about  the  Isthmus  in  them  days." 

"  Yes,  I'll  telegraph  him  at  once  !  His  address  is 
Bohio  Soldado  !  "  cries  Louise,  and  turns  to  go  about  her 
errand,  but  pausing,  whispers  :  "  Not  a  word  of  this  to 
anybody  !     It  may  bring  danger  upon  me  !  " 

"  Danger  upon  j^z/ 1  " 

"  Yes.  Do  you  suppose  a  man  who  would  murder  in 
1856,  would  hesitate  to  murder  noWy  though  he  is  a 
Baron,  and  rich  ?  "  mutters  the  girl,  and  would  fly  from 
the  room. 

But  Mrs.  Winterburn  says  suddenly,  running  after  her  : 
"  Take  these — these  are  yours  !  "  and  presses  the  pearls 
into  her  hands. 

And  Louise  says  :  "  We  can  settle  that  afterwards. 
But  not  a  word  to  anyone — and  remember  where  these 
came  from.     You  may  have  to  make  oath  to  the  same  !  " 

So  leaving  Mrs.  Winterburn  in  a  half-comatose  state 
from  surprise  and  agitation,  Louise  Minturn  hastily  goes 
to   the   telegraph-office,  and   sends  such  a  despatch  to 


BARON     MONTEZ.  I95 

Silas  Winterburn,  that  he  makes  his  appearance  in 
Panama  the  next  morning. 

Meantime  Miss  Minturn  contrives  somehow  to  get 
through  her  work  this  afternoon. 

Before  she  is  out  of  her  hammock  the  next  morning, 
she  is  gratified  by  a  rap  upon  the  door,  and  Silas'  jovial 
voice  saying  :  "  What  do  you  mean  by  scaring  a  man  to 
death  with  telegrams  ?  I  thought  my  wife  or  baby  was 
dead  !  " 

"  Why,"  cries  Louise  through  the  door,  ''  I  said  noth- 
ing about  them." 

"  That's  what's  the  matter.  You  merely  telegraphed 
me  to  come  for  God's  sake  !  Ain't  that  kind  of  a  tele- 
gram enough  to  scare  a  man  who  has  lost  three  families  ?  " 

"  Very  well !  Now  that  your  mind  is  relieved,  I  would 
like  to  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes  :  I  will  be  out  in 
five." 

As  tropical  toilets  do  not  take  long.  Miss  Louise  trips 
out  within  the  time  specified,  an  agitated  but  beautiful 
picture.  Together  they  go  to  the  museum.  There 
turning  to  him,  she  says  :  "  Your  wife  has  told  you  ? " 

"  No,  she  hinted  at  somethin'  about  this  'ere  canister," 
replies  Silas,  laying  his  hand  on  the  object  ;  "but  Susie 
was  too  agitated  to  be  quite  intelligible." 

"Very  well  then,  I  will  tell  you  the  story,"  answers 
Louise. 

And  she  does,  giving  him  the  full  details  of  every- 
thing, showing  him  Alice  Ripley's  letters,  the  duplicate 
tintypes,  then  puts  before  him  the  contents  of  the  powder- 
canister,  the  glistening  string  of  pearls,  and  the  letter  on 
the  cuff,  which  she  reads  to  him,  though  her  voice 
trembles.  His  voice  trembles  also,  as  he  answers  her  : 
for  she  is  questioning  him  rapidly  :  "  You  know  the 
place  this  was  written  from  ?  " 

"  What,  Caperija  ?  I  should  think  I  did — though  she's 
spelled  it  wrong,  just  as  it  is  pronounced,  poor  critter  ! 
It's  about  four  hours  by  cance,  when  there  is  water 
enough  to  get  there,  from  Cruces,  up  the  Piqueni,  one  of 
the  headwaters  of  the  Chagres.  It's  a  miserable  hole, 
on  the  old  deserted  road  to  Porto  Bello.  She  threw  that 
powder  canister  into  the  Piqueni,  and  it  floated  down 
into  the  Chagres,  washed  up  against  some  tree  growing 
on  the  banks,  and  lingered  there  till  the  tree  grew  round 


igO  BARON    MONTEZ. 

it.  Then  it  was  washed  away  by  some  flood,  and  so  it 
came  into  my  hands,  thirty  years  afterwards  !  " 

"You  believe,  then  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  People  don't  throw  away  pearls  like 
these  for  fun.  This  was  a  woman's  last  despairin' 
effort." 

"  You  believe  that  Montez  and  Domingo  killed  her 
husband,  George  Ripley,  in  1856  ?" 

"  Why,  Holy  Virgin!  I  was  there!  "  cries  Silas. 

"You  were  there  ?  "  gasps  the  girl. 

"Yes!  That  night  was  impressed  upon  me,  for  I  had 
to  git  for  my  life  on  to  the  steamer.  I  remember  like 
yesterday,  before  the  muss  commenced,  seein'  a  big  Cali- 
fornian  stand  off  the  crowd,  till  the  police  came  and 
shot  down  the  women  and  children.  Just  as  I  fled,  I  saw 
that  black  Domingo  run  into  the  Pacific  House,  followin' 
the  big  Californian  ;  and,  durn  me,  if  Montez  wasn't 
with  him!  " 

"You  think  I  can  prove  their  crime  ? " 

"  It  will  be  pretty  difficult  against  Montez!  Thirty 
years  has  passed.  He  is  rich  and  powerful,  and  a  Baron 
— though  that  don't  count  here — but  riches  do,  every- 
where! " 

"  Then,  how  to  get  evidence?  " 

"You  are  in  Baron  Montez'  office.  You  have  seen 
that  worthy  gentleman — young  lady,  do  you  think  you 
will  obtain  it  from  /lim  /  " 

"  No,"  mutters  the  girl,  "never  from  him  personally." 

"  Then,  as  to  Domingo,  the  black  nigger ;  he's  prob- 
ably dead  !  I  ain't  seen  him  round  here,  or  on  the  rail- 
road, for  years.     He  must  be  nearly  eighty. " 

"  I  know  him  !  I  have  written  to  him  !  He  is  alive  !  " 
cries  the  girl,  remembering  the  letter  to  Porto  Bello. 

"Great  Scott!  Por  Dios !  Muchos diablos !  Beg  par- 
don! "  ejaculates  Silas,  astounded.  "  Alive!  Well,"  he 
goes  on,  reflectively,  "  I  don't  think  you  will  be  able  to 
get  anything  from  him,  if  Domingo's  got  his  senses  left. 
I'll  make  some  inquiries  around  town,  and  see  what  I 
can  pick  up  ;  but  I  reckon  you  won't  be  able  to  put  any- 
salt  on  either  of  those  two  old  gray  birds'  tails." 

So  he  goes  away,  while  Miss  Minturn  proceeds  to 
Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  to  get  another  sensation.  About 
twelve  o'clock  in  the  day  she   sees  a  tall  black  man, 


BARON    MONTEZ.  I97 

dressed  m  Spanish  style,  with  long  sash  and  wide  sombrero^ 
with  two  terrible  scars  upon  his  face,  and  wool  white  as 
the  driven  snow,  come  into  the  office.  Though  his  eyes 
are  bright,  and  his  step  seems  elastic,  there  is  the  gray  of 
old  age  upon  his  face  that  makes  his  scars  seem  red. 

This  creature  steps  in,  and  walking  up  to  the  great 
Baron  Montez,  who  is  writing  at  his  desk,  slaps  him  upon 
the  back,  and  cries  :  "  Ah,  ha!  diablo  inuchacho  !  " 

To  this  Montez,  springing  up,  falters  :  ^^  Farbleu,  Do- 
mingo, my — my  old  comrade !  "  and  tries  to  greet  him 
quite  effusively,  though  he  does  not  look  overpleased  to 
see  him. 

Domingo's  eyes  are  still  sharp,  and  he  jeers  :  ''  What  ! 
not  happy  to  see  your  old  friend  and  compaiiero,  Domingo 
of  Porto  Bello  ? "  Then  he  snarls  :  ''  You  need  not  be 
frightened  1  I  have  not  come  for  my  dividends  on  the 
stock  of  this  big  ditch  they  are  digging  and  digging,  and 
will  dig  forever.  Those  are  paid  regularly  by  old  man 
Aguilla,  your  partner." 

"Of  course,  the  dividends  come  regularly,"  murmurs 
Montez, 

"  I  should  think  so.  If  they  did  not,  you  would  hear 
from  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello!  " 

Then  he  goes  on  :  "  But  how  do  they  make  money 
digging  the  ditch  ?  Do  they  get  paid  for  digging 
it .? " 

Miss  Minturn  is  trying  to  hide  her  agitation  by  play- 
ing on  the  keys  of  the  Remington,  for  she  has  heard 
this  conversation  through  the  door,  that  is  always  left 
open  on  account  of  draught,  and  knows  that  she  is  sit- 
ting almost  in  the  presence  of  the  two  murderers  of 
Alice  Ripley. 

Domingo  of  Porto  Bello  cries  :  "  What's  that  ?  " 

"  What  ? " 

"  The  noise  like  the  clicking  of  a  thousand  pistol 
locks  !  " 

"  A  typewriter." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"A  little  thing,"  remarks  Montez,  "that  takes  down 
what  is  said  to  it.     Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?  " 

So  he  brings  in  Domingo  to  look  upon  this  wonder  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  And  the  girl  can  hardly  keep 
her  hands  upon  the  keys,  though  she  gazes  eagerly  and 


198  BARON    MONTEZ. 

takes  in  the  face  of  Domingo  to  her  memory,  never  to 
forget  it. 

The  ex-pirate  says  :    "  She  takes  what  you  say,  down  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  puts  it  on  paper  ?  Ah,  ho  !  This  is  wonderful  ! 
She  must  be  a  smart  girl.  Why  does  she  sit  there  for- 
ever ?  Is  she  a  slave  ?  Of  course  she's  a  slave.  No  one 
but  a  slave  would  work  like  that  !  " 

Then  he  suddenly  cries,  for  at  his  words,  Louise  has 
looked  up  again  with  blazing  eyes  : 

'•'■  Maldito !  The  same  eye  as  the  white  lady — the 
blonde  lady  !  You  remember  her,  Montez  ?  you  remem- 
ber the  good  old  days  !    You  remember " 

But  Montez  suddenly  interrupts.  "  Nonsense  !  I  re- 
member too  many  !  " 

"Ah,  but  no  white  ladies  with  snakes,  eh  ?" 

"  Sh  — sh  !  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  cries  Fer- 
nando. "  Come  to  lunch.  You  ramble,  old  man,  you 
ramble  !  " 

After  Domingo  has  gone  out,  Montez  comes  in  to  Louise 
and  says  :  "  This  is  an  old  dependent,  who  is  now  in  his 
dotage.  I  presume  he  was  a  wicked  boy  in  his  day.  I 
think,  between  you  and  me,  he  must  have  been  a 
pirate." 

"  Oh,"  cries  the  young  lady,  '*  did  they  ever  have  pirates 
here  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  long  before  you  were  born.  You  should  go 
down  and  see  the  old  town  that  Morgan  destroyed  1  " 
suggests  Montez,  going  out. 

Pondering  on  this,  Louise  thinks  her  employer  curiously 
evasive,  and  guesses  quite  shrewdly  that  it  is  to  cover 
up  some  agitation  produced  by  the  remarks  of  his  old 
dependent  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello. 

As  soon  as  possible  she  flies  off  with  this  story  to  Silas 
Winterburn,  who  remarks  :  "  Well,  they're  both  here, 
and  I  guess  that's  about  all  the  good  it  will  do  you  !  I 
reckon  you'd  better  take  the  pearls  and  be  contented  to 
let  the  matter  rest,  my  dear  young  lady  !  " 

"  Never  !  "  cries  the  girl.  "  I'll  have  the  truth  from  one 
of  them  in  some  way  !  " 

"  Well,  seems  to  me  you're  takin'  about  as  long  a 
job  as  buildin'  a  cathedral  !"  mutters  Winterburn,  "but 
1   don't  think  Pll  be  able  to  do  you  any  good  further 


BARON    MONTEZ. 


199 


than  to  give  my  evidence  about  the  powder  canister,  if 
you  ever  should  get  them  into  court." 

Suddenly  his  voice  becomes  solemn,  and  he  whispers  : 
"■  For  the  love  of  heaven  and  Santa  Maria,  my  dear  young 
lady,  don't  let  either  of  these  gentlemen  know  what 
you're  drivin'  at,  or  that  you're  a  relative  of  the  robbed 
and  murdered  Californians.  They  didn^t  stop  at  murder 
'then,  and  I  don't  think  either  of  them  have  improved  by 
age.     Promise  me  to  be  very  careful  !  " 

*'I  will,"  replies  Louise,  '-very  careful,  for  that  is  the 
only  way  to  succeed." 

She  would  go  on  devoting  her  mind  to  this  business, 
but  Winterburn,  as  he  goes  away,  gives  her  a  little 
further  information. 

"By  the  by,"  he  says,  "I  was  in  Kophcke's  drug  store 
half  an  hour  ago,  getting  some  liniment  to  take  with  me 
for  bruises  on  the  dredger,  when  that  young  Californian, 
Bovee,  came  in  to  get  some  medicine,  and  told  me  about 
poor  Larchmont." 

''  J^oor  Larchmont !  " 

"  Yes,  the  nice  young  fellow  that  gave  my  wife  the 
letter  of  introduction  to  you.  He  spent  a  day  on  my 
Chagres  dredger — the  day  before  I  got  your  telegram." 

''Well,  what  of  him?  /'^^r  Larchmont ?"  gasps  the 
girl,  growing  white. 

"Oh,  it  ain't  as  bad  as  that,"  cries  Silas.  "He  ain't 
dead  yet ! " 

"  Not  yet  ?     O  heavens  !     What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Why,  he's  got  the  fever." 

'*  The  fever  !     The  yellow  fever  ?  " 

"  Not  the  yellow  fever  I " 

"  Thank  God  !  " 

"But  the  Panama  fever — the  malarial  fever,  though 
sometimes  it's  most  as  deadly,  but  they  get  over  it 
quicker." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  rooms  of  George  Bovee,  one  of  the  clerks  of 
the  Pacific  Mail." 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  house  is  ? " 

"Yes!" 

"Then  take  me  to  him,  quick  !  And  I  will  bless  you 
for  this  kindness  !  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? " 


200  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Nurse  him  !  "  whispers  Louise.  '*  Nurse  him  till  he 
lives,  or " 

"What?" 

"  Till  I  die  !  " 

And  led  by  the  kind-hearted  engineer,  she  goes  to  the 
quarters  of  the  young  American,  which  are  three  open 
rooms,  with  plenty  of  sea-breeze. 

They  are  received  at  the  door  by  a  gentleman  who 
looks  in  astonishment  at  the  beautiful  young  lady,  as  she 
says :  "  You  are  Mr.  Bovee  ?  You  are  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Larchmont's  ? " 

"I  hope  so.     And  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  Miss  Minturn  of  New  York.  Mr.  Larchmont 
saved  my  life  in  the  New  York  blizzard.  I  have  come  to 
nurse  him  !  " 

And  the  young  American,  taking  off  his  hat,  says  : 
"  Thank  God  !  We  have  got  a  nurse— a  woman  nurse — 
a  tender-hearted  nurse  !  God  bless  you,  Miss  Minturn, 
for  coming  !  Wc  need  one  !  He  is  very  low  !  "  Then 
noting  how  pale  Louise  is,  he  thinks  it  is  from  fear,  and 
whispers  :  "  Do  not  be  alarmed.  His  disease  is  neither 
contagious,  infectious,  nor  epidemic." 

"  Were  it  all  three,"  answers  the  girl  very  solemnly, 
"  I'd  nurse  him  !  " 

Then  Bovee  leads  the  way  into  a  room,  where  on  a 
little  cot-bed,  his  face  sometimes  as  white  as  the  sheets, 
with  awful  chills,  and  red  with  the  fever  at  others,  lies 
Harry  Larchmont,  and  she  whispers  to  him  :  **  Do  you 
know  me  ?  " 

The  eyes,  opening,  smile  at  her,  and  the  teeth  chatter- 
ing with  malarial  chill,  gasp:  "  Louise  !  "  and  a  hand, 
hot  as  the  sands  of  the  desert,  clasps  hers,  as  he  mut- 
ters :  '*  God  bless  you  !  " 

But  suddenly  he  utters  an  awful  cry  :  "  Angels  have 
come  !  "  Then  moans,  "  My  God  !  too  late  !  too  late  !  " 
and  the  delirium  is  on  him. 

In  it  he  mutters  things  that  almost  break  his  nurse's 
heart,  for  he  babbles  of  the  girl  in  Paris,  and  shrieks  : 
"  She  shall  not  marry  Montez," 

But  Louise  sits  in  martyrdom  by  his  bedside,  and  they 
nurse  him  day  and  night,  and  they  fight  death  for  him, 
and  she  fights  strongest  of  them  all — stronger  than  his 
friend — stronger    than    the    doctor — catching    words  of 


BARON    MONTEZ.  20I 

delirium  that  sometimes  wound  her  heart,  for  she  mis- 
construes them. 

Once  during  his  delirium,  he  gives  her  unutterable  joy, 
for  he  shrieks  :  "  No  more  !  No  more  attempts  to  lure 
the  secrets  of  Montez  from  the  lips  of  the  horrible  French- 
woman !  "  Next  he  sobs  the  tears  of  delirium,  and  cries 
out  :  "  But  it  was  to  save  my  brother's  name  without 
'destroying  myself.  To  save  that  poor  girl  from  that 
villain  Montez  !  " 

And  his  nurse  goes  out  from  the  room,  and  clasps  her 
hands  together,  and  looks  over  the  hot  sunny  water  of 
the  Bay  of  Panama,  from  the  veranda,  and  murmurs  : 
"  Thank  God  !  The  man  I  love  is  worthy  !  but  his  heart 
is  given  to  another  !  The  whispers  of  the  dying  are  al- 
ways true  !  It  was  not  to  gain  the  smiles  of  the  French- 
woman, but  to  win  Montez'  secret,  that  my  Harry  seemed 
what  he  was  not — a  villain  !  " 

And  the  tears  come  into  her  eyes  and  run  down  her 
pale  hopeless  face,  as  she  smites  her  hands  together  and 
links  them  in  despair,  muttering:  "I  can  call  him  my 
Harry  now,  because — because  he  is  dying!  " 

For  the  doctor  this  morning  has  given  her  no  hope  that 
the  patient  may  live. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DOMINGO    OF    PORTO    BELLO. 

Now,  this  absence  of  the  young  lady  from  her  office 
duties  she  has  explained  in  person  to  Aguilla,  who  has 
said  in  his  kindly  way  :  "  That's  right,  my  dear.  If  you 
can  save  a  victim  from  the  fever,  do  so.  There  are  so 
many  who  are  not  saved,"  and  gives  indefinite  leave  of 
absence. 

This  being  reported  to  Montez,  he  meditates  :  "  Ah 
ha  !  The  pretty  Louise  loves  him  yet — this  Harry 
Larchmont — though  he  loves  my  fiancee  in  Paris  !  "  In- 
cidentally meeting,  that  day,  the  doctor  who  attends 
Larchmont,  the  Baron  makes  careful  inquiries  on  the 
plea  of  being  the  intimate  of  Harry's  Parisian  brother, 
and  is  informed  that  there  is  no  hope  of  his  recovery. 

So  he  laughs  to  himself  : 


202  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Again  I  triumph  !  See  how  my  enemies  fall  before 
me  !  I  leave  this  place  clear  !  To-morrow  I  go  away 
from  Panama  forever  !  To  my  wedding  day — to  enjoy 
the  beauty  of  Jessie  Severn — to  be  rich  as  a  prince — to 
be  one  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth.  I  have  eaten  up 
everyone  ;  though  they  do  not  know  it,  they  are  in  my 
jaws  now  !  " 

And  they  are  ;  for  he  has  made  such  arrangements  that 
none  of  them  will  ever  see  any  of  the  gold  of  Panama. 
Domingo's  stock  will  be  lost  to  him  ;  he  will  receive  his 
dividends  no  more.  Aguilla,  his  partner,  is  ruined,  or 
will  be  soon  after  Montez  gets  to  Paris.  Wernig,  his 
chum,  will  have  hardly  a  fighting  chance,  and  Francois 
Leroy  Larchmont  no  chance  at  all.  Everyone  has  been 
eaten  up  by  this  Vadalia  Cardinalis. 

Montez,  with  his  astute  mind,  has  looked  over  the 
field.  He  knows  the  Canal  Company,  lottery  or  no  lot- 
tery bill,  will  not  last  out  the  year,  and  with  this  failure 
must  come  such  an  explosion  from  French  investors,  that 
will  upheave  even  France  itself. 

Investigation  must  show  jobbery  and  fraud  almost 
unequalled  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

So  he  has  withdrawn  himself  from  the  storm,  as  far  as 
possible.  He  has  made  large  investments  in  American 
securities.  These  are  in  the  hands  of  a  New  York 
banking  house,  solid  as  a  rock — one  that  has  little 
to  do  with  France — one  that  has  never  in  any  way  been 
interested  in  French  securities,  or  the  Canal  Interoceanic. 

"  I  can  live  on  that,  a  Fifth  Avenue  nabob,  in  America, 
if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,"  he  thinks,  as  he  con- 
sults the  black  pocketbook  he  always  carries  with  him, 
and  which  day  by  day,  and  night  by  night,  is  his  own 
particular  care. 

So  he  makes  his  preparations  for  departure  in  very 
happy  m.ood. 

As  he  is  bidding  Aguilla  good-by,  that  gentleman  says 
to  him  nervously :  "  You  are  sure  the  Canal  Lottery 
Bill  will  pass?" 

*'  Certain  as  that  I  stand  here  !  "  cries  Montez. 

So  Fernando  goes  away  from  Panama,  receiving  merry 
adteux,  and  passing  over  the  railroad  to  Colon.  At 
Matachim  he  looks  up  the  Chagres  River  towards  Cruces, 
and  his  eye  says  :  "  Adieu  forever  !  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  203 

Taking  steamer  on  the  Atlantic  side,  Baron  Fernando 
Montez  goes  to  New  York,  where  he  will  spend  a  fort- 
night, looking  after  his  American  investments,  and  see- 
ing that  they  are  as  certain  as  securities  can  be. 

Within  a  week  after  he  has  gone  away  from  Panama, 
there  comes  a  commotion  in  the  office.  He  has  left 
certain  letters  written  in  his  own  hand,  to  be  delivered. 
"Bastien  Lefort  brings  in  one  of  these,  and  mutters  in 
a  broken  voice  :  ''  Where  is  the  Baron  Montez  ?  Sacre 
Dieu  !     I  am  a  ruined  man  !  " 

Being  informed  that  the  senior  partner  has  gone 
away,  he  wrings  his  hands  and  interviews  the  junior. 

After  reading  his  letter,  Aguilla  himself  turns  pale, 
and  his  fat  face  becomes  thinner,  and  he  also  gasps  : 
'^  Man  Dieu  !  "  Then  he  shuts  himself  up  in  his  private 
office,  and  tears  run  down  his  fat  face — the  bom-gcois  tears 
for  loss  of  money — for  he  moans  to  himself  :  "  If  what 
this  letter  tells  me  is  true,  Montez  has  destroyed  me 
also.  My  God!  my  children  !  How  can  I  stop  him? 
What  hope  is  there  ?  " 

But  into  this  scene  comes  a  happier  face.  Louise 
Minturn,  radiant  as  the  sun,  though  her  young  face  bears 
lines  of  care,  from  ceaseless  watching  and  careful  nursing, 
comes  in  half  crying,  half  laughing  :  "  Thank  God  !  he  is 
saved  !  The  doctor  says  he  will  live  !  You  understand 
me?  I  am  back  for  work.  Monsieur  Aguilla!  The 
doctor  says  Harry — Mr.  Larchmont  will  live." 

But  before  Aguilla  can  answer,  there  is  a  harsh  voice 
outside,  and  a  terrible  thump  on  the  door,  and  in  strides 
the  black  man  with  the  two  great  red  scars  and  the 
white  wool. 

He  cries  hoarsely  :  "  Where  is  this  ladron — this  Mon- 
tez ?  I  have  had  his  letter  lead  to  me.  It  says  my  gold 
is  gone.  I,  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello,  will  wTing  his 
slippery  neck  !  " 

"  Montez  has  gone — to — to  France  !  "  stammers 
Aguilla,  for  the  appearance  of  the  ex-pirate  frightens 
him. 

"To  France! — Thousands  of  miles  from  me!  — But 
you  his  partner  are  here — in  my  grasp  1  "  howls 
Domingo,  and  seizes  poor  Aguilla  by  the  throat,  growl- 
ing :  "  Tell  me,  liar  !  Tell  me,  dog  !  Tell  me,  where 
are  my  dividends,  or  I  will  strangle  you  !  " 


204  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Old  as  Domingo  is,  Aguilla  cannot  get  away  from  his 
grasp,  though  he  contrives  to  gasp  out  :  "  You  want 
— your  month's  dividends?  " 

"  Yes  !     This  letter  says  I  shall  have  none  !  " 

"  You  shall  have  them  !  " 

"  Now  or  your  life  !  " 

''  Certainly  !  The  —  the  fifty  dollars  !  "  stutters 
Aguilla,  and  pays  it  agitatedly  out  of  his  pocket  ;  for- 
getting even  receipt  for  same,  though  this  is  not  natural 
to  his  bourgeois  nature. 

^'  Ah,  Diablo/"  cries  Domingo,  chinking  the  silver  and 
gold.  "  Now  for  the  pirate's  delight — the  rumshop  !  " 
and  goes  off,  leaving  Louise  and  Aguilla  gazing  at  each 
other  astonished  and  dismayed. 

Then  Aguilla  says  suddenly  :  "  Thank  Heaven  none 
of  the  clerks  heard  !  "  and  looks  into  the  outer  office, 
which  is  quiet — the  employees  are  all  at  their  lunch.  At 
this  Louise,  turning  to  the  Frenchman,  queries  :  "  What 
does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  at  present,"  he  answers.  "  Come 
to-morrow  !  "  Then  looking  at  her  he  says  consider- 
ingly :  "  I  may  have  a  curious  mission  for  you.  It  will 
be  very  important.     Come  to-morrow  for  instructions." 

"  You  do  not  want  me  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  go  back  and  nurse  your  sick  friend.  My  little 
daughter  is  sick  also.     I  must  go  to  Toboga  !  " 

So  Louise,  happy  to  get  to  the  bedside  where  she  has 
fought  death  and  won,  goes  back  to  her  vigil  beside  the 
couch  of  Harry  Larchmont  the  American,  and  beside  his 
bed  is  a  telegram  ;  but  the  doctor  says,  ''  Not  yet  ;  he  is 
not  strong  enough." 

The  next  day  she  blesses  God  again,  for  he  is  better, 
and  his  brain  is  clear,  but  he  is  weak — so  weak  ;  though 
there  is  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  indicates  he  is  happy,  as 
she  ministers  to  him  with  the  tender  hand  of  loving 
woman  :  the  tender  hand  that  comes  to  men  in  sickness  : 
the  tender  hand  that  men  should  remember,  but  which 
they  ofttimes  forget  when  health  makes  them  strong. 

And  the  doctor  coming,  she  whispers  to  him  :  "  It  is  a 
cable — shall  I  ? — dare  I  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  says  the  man  of  science.  "  But  to-morrow, 
perhaps,  if  all  goes  well.  He  is  improving  fast — t'nanks 
to  his  good  nurse  I  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  205 

"  Thanks  to  his  good  doctor,"  answers  Louise  with 
happy  blushes,  and  goes  back  to  her  labors  at  Montez, 
Aguilla  et  Cie.,  very  happy,  to  find  on  her  desk  plenty  of 
work. 

It  is  mostly  routine  labor  that  she  can  answer  without 
dictation,  for  a  note  has  been  made  on  every  letter.  She 
goes  to  work  at  these,  for  Aguilla,  who  comes  in  once, 
'says  :  "  I  am  cabling  to  Paris.  I  shall  have  nothing  to 
say  to  you  of  what  I  spoke  of  last  night,  until  1  receive 
answer,"  and  keeps  away  from  the  office,  apparently  very 
anxious  as  to  his  return  despatches. 

So  the  girl,  stealing  one  hour  from  her  work,  to  spend 
at  the  bedside  of  Harry  Larchmont,  comes  back  late  in 
the  afternoon,  to  finish  up  her  letters,  and  sits  writing  at 
the  typewriter,  till  all  the  other  clerks  have  gone  away 
and  left  her,  and  the  rapid  night  of  the  Isthmus  is  grow- 
ing near. 

There  is  no  one  in  the  building. 

She  has  finished  her  last  letter,  and  is  rising  to  go 
home,  when  the  door  opens  with  a  bang,  and  a  hoarse 
voice  speaks  to  her.  'rhe  voice  of  a  man  half  drunk 
with  aqiiardientc — half  wild  with  rage.  She  gives  a  gasp, 
and  her  heart  beats  wildly,  for  she,  Louise  Minturn,  is 
standing  alone,  face  to  face  with  Domingo,  the  murderer 
of  Alice  Ripley  and  her  husband. 

His  eyes  have  a  pirate  gleam  in  them,  and  his  black 
heart  is  throbbing  with  deep  pants  beneath  his  black 
bosom,  that  is  partly  bare,  for  he  has  torn  away  the  shirt 
in  rage,  or  drunkenness. 

She  would  fly  to  the  door,  but  he  closes  it  and  locks 
it.  The  key  goes  into  his  pocket  as  he  cries  :  *'  Lefort, 
the  miser  who  is  weeping  for  his  gold,  says  mine  is  gone 
also  !     The  miser  sobs  !     The  pirate  kills  !  " 

Next  a  cunning  gleam  comes  into  his  eyes  that  are  red, 
and  he  whispers  :  ''  You  are  the  one  who  writes  in  the 
magic  box.     You  take  down  the  words  in  the  air  ?  " 

And  the  girl  gasps,  "  Yes  !  " 

"  Then  put  it  down,  that  I,  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello, 
may  swear  to  it,  and  hang  this  villain  Montez — who  has 
robbed  me  of  my  gold,  and  hang  myself,  Domingo  !  " 

And  the  girl,  with  pale  face  and  trembling  hands, 
stands  looking  at  him,  and  he  with  half-drunken  voice, 
cries :    "  Put  it   down  !      Put   it   down,    or    I    will    kill 


2o6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

you  !  Put  down  the  story  of  the  white  lady  with  the 
pearls  !  " 

Then  Louise,  sinking  into  her  chair,  with  trembling 
hands,  does  as  she  is  bidden,  and  takes  down  the  story  of 
the  ex-pirate,  crazed  with  drink  and  rage,  told  with  the 
florid  gestures  of  the  tropics  ;  delivered  with  the  intensity 
of  the  savage. 

''  You  know  me,  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello  ? " 

"  Y — e — s,"  falters  Louise. 

"  Put  it  down  !  You  know  Fernando  Gomez  Montez, 
mule-boy  of  Cruces,  who  calls  himself  Baron  .?  " 

''  Yes  !  " 

"  Put  it  down  !  You  know  the  night  in  '56,  when  we 
killed  'em  here — women  and  children — we  killed  'em  ?  " 

''  My  Heaven  !  " 

"  Pu^  it  down  !  You  know  the  Californian — you  know 
the  Senor  Georgio  Ripley — the  white  lady —  the  lady 
with  the  pearls  ?  " 

^'Yes  !" 

"  Tell  how  we  killed  the  man,  and  stole  the  gold  and 
the  woman  !  That  Montez  gave  me  little  gold,  and  kept 
much  !  Put  it  down,  how  that  night  we  tossed  the  dead 
man  to  the  sharks  !  " 

"  My  God  !  "  cries  the  girl. 

a  pu^  j^  down!  Put  it  down  how  we  bore  the  beau- 
tiful woman  into  the  mountains,  along  the  Gargona  trail, 
up  through  the  hills  into  the  Cordilleras,  over  the  old  Porto 
Bello  trail,  grown  up  with  weeds  over  which  the  mule 
stumbled,  but  I  strode  on.  How  the  monkeys  howled 
and  the  jaguar  screamed  as  we  passed  through  the  tree 
vistas  in  the  dark  night ;  how  the  moonlight  shone  on 
us  through  the  boughs  and  hanging  vines  and  palm 
leaves.  How  the  day  came  on — above  us  the  birds  and 
sunshine,  around  us  things  that  love  darkness — the  crawl- 
ing snake,  the  timid  tapir,  the  crouching  tiger.  And  the 
lady— the  white  lady — regaining  her  senses,  cried  to  us, 
and  we  took  her  to  the  hut  by  the  river,  where  she  strug- 
gled, and  cried  to  God  for  her  husband.  Mia  madre  ! 
how  she  cried  !  Cried  as  the  women  cried  on  pirate 
ships,  when  their  husbands  were  cut  down  by  cutlasses, 
or  pistolled  before  their  eyes.  I,  Domingo,  tell  you  so. 
Put  it  down  ! 

''  Put  it  down   how   Montez  told   her   he   loved   her. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  .207 

How  the  beautiful  eyes  shone  with  hate  upon  him  !  Tell 
of  the  lovely  form  drawn  up  erect  !  How  she  turned  upon 
him  in  the  hut,  and  swore  to  kill  herself,  by  the  God  of 
Gods,  rather  than  love  him  !  How  he,  to  see  if  we  were 
pursued,  left  her  imprisoned  in  the  hut,  giving  her  one 
day  to  decide  whether  she  would  love  him  willingly  or 
unwillingly.  How  I,  Domingo,  watched  her,  that  I  might 
steal  the  pearls  from  her.  I  could  have  torn  them  from 
her,  but  she  might  have  told  Montez,  and  I  feared  Mon- 
tez.  And  I  fear  Montez  yet,  for  he  is  stronger — cun- 
ning little  Montez  !     Montez  el  diablo  muchacho  I 

"  Put  it  down  how  she  looked  out  of  the  little  hut — out 
of  the  window,  and  saw  the  Indian  snake  charmer — the 
snake  catcher.  Tell  how  she  watched  across  the  river- 
bank  !  How  the  birds  fluttered  frightened — how  that 
awful  snake — the  one  I  have  seen  kill  a  comrade  in  Saint 
Lucia,  when  I  was  a  boy  on  Lafitte's  ship — the  one  they 
call  the  yellow  snake — the  lance-head — the  Labarri  of 
Guiana,  and  Macagua  of  the  Caribs.  How  the  Macagua, 
eight  feet  of  living  death,  with  black  forked  tongue  that 
moves  unceasingly,  and  lurid  eyes  that  never  quail, 
crawled  over  the  bank  of  the  river,  in  pursuit  of  the  bird  ; 
how  the  snake  charmer,  with  long  branch,  pinned  his 
head  to  the  ground,  and  seized  him,  and  laughed  in  his 
very  fangs,  as  I  watched — I,  Domingo,  watched  !  TeU 
how  the  woman,  crazy  with  despair,  beckoned  to  the 
snake  charmer,  for  she  knew  not  his  lingo,  while  he  held 
it — the  death  spirit — the  great  long  serpent  with  the 
bands  of  black  upon  his  back,  that  tapered  down  and  left 
all  scales  of  yellow  on  his  belly — the  living  coil  with  death 
at  its  head,  and  long,  sharp  fangs,  from  which  the  venom 
dropped — how  he  put  it  in  a  water  gourd,  and  bound 
over  it  deerskin,  and  held  imprisoned  the  living  death, 
that  would  affright  even  a  man  like  me — put  it 
DOWN  ! 

"  And  the  lady — the  white  lady — looking  with  des- 
perate eyes — with  eyes  that  were  growing  crazy — beckoned 
the  Carib,  and  he  plunged  into  the  rapids,  and  waded 
across,  for  she  held  up  one  white  pearl  of  the  string  to 
allure  him  to  her — one  glistening  pearl,  worth  money 
anywhere.  Put  it  down  !  And  the  man  coming  to  her 
with  his  vase  of  living  death,  she  seized  from  him  the 
gourd  that  held  the  Macagua  snake,  and  dropped  into 


208  BARON    MONTEZ. 

his  hand  the  pearl.  And  the  snake  charmer  laughed, 
and  I,  Domingo,  knew  a  desperate  woman  meant  death 
to  one  or  both  of  us,  if  we  entered  into  her  hut,  or  death 
unto  herself.  How  I  chuckled  :  *  Here  is  an  unknown 
joy  for  Montez  who  will  be  coming  soon,  for  Montez 
loves  this  woman  with  the  sunny  hair  and  the  blue  eyes, 
and  skin  white  as  the  Santo  Espiritu  flower  ! ' 

"Then,  as  night  comes  on,  Montez  is  back  and  says  : 
*"  There  is  no  pursuit  ! ' 

"  And  I  said  :  *  Ha,  ha  !  there  may  be  ? '  That  was  to 
myself,  for  1  had  seen  her  write  something,  but  I  knew 
not  what  she  did  with  it. 

'•  And  Montez  said  to  me  :  'Is  she  there  ? ' 

"  And  I  said  :  *  She  is — go  in  !  ' 

"  I  laughed — I,  Domingo,  laughed.  And  as  he  entered, 
I  saw  this  woman  rise  up  as  a  spirit  of  the  sea  !  Her 
white  limbs  and  bare  bosom,  the  garments  torn  from  them 
by  the  brambles  of  the  forest,  gleaming  in  the  last  sun 
rays  ;  her  eyes— blue  as  the  waves  and  flashing  like  those 
of  women  who  walk  the  plank. 

"  Upon  this  loveliness  Montez  one  moment  gloated, 
then  he  cried  to  her :  '  I  love  you  !  I  will  be  your 
husband  !  I  will  take  the  place  of  him  who  is  lost 
to  you  !  " 

"  And  she  cried  :  '  Never  !  ' 

"  And  as  she  cried  out,  Montez  sprang  towards  her,  and 
then,  between  them  both,  I  saw  her  hold  the  living  snake, 
and  laugh  :  '  Come  now  !  I  love  this  better  than  I  love 
you  ! ' 

"  And  the  Macagua  snake,  not  knowing  which  to  bite, 
waved  his  head,  and  hissed  a  sharp  hiss,  with  his  fangs 
uplifted,  as  she  chased  Montez  with  the  living  death 
around  the  hut,  and  then  again  around  !  And  he  with 
awful  screams  sprang  through  the  door. 

"  And  the  snake  bit  her,  and  the  woman  cried  :  '  I  love 
him  best  I  ' 

"  And  so  she  died  !  Put  it  down  !  Behold  the  story 
that  will  hang  this  Baron  Montez,  who  robs  me  of  my 
dividends  of  gold  !  Put  it  down  !  PUT  IT  DOWN  ! 
that  I  may  swear  to  it — I,  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello — 
the  last  living  pirate." 

But  there  is  a  swooning  woman,  who  can  put  down  no 
more,  as  Domingo,  ex-villain,  ex-murderer,  and  last  of  the 


BARON    MONTEZ.  209 

pirates  of  the  Gulf,  staggers  out,  and  says  to  the  French- 
man, Bastien  Lefort,  who  is  walking  moodily  outside  : 

"  I  have  put  it  down — what  will  hang  the  villain 
Montez,  who  has  robbed  both  you  and  me,  my  French- 
man of  the  heavy  heart  !     I  have  put  it  down  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

AFTER    HER  ! 

Some  little  time  after  this,  the  girl  lying  half  swooning 
over  her  typewriter,  by  an  effort,  forces  her  mind  to  its 
work  Once  more,  and  takmg  the  awful  dictation  with  her, 
goes  tremblingly  out  of  the  buildmg,  and  is  happy  to  find 
herself  in  the  streets,  with  people  moving  about. 

This  terrible  tale  has  affected  her  nerves,  and  she 
shudders,  turning  corners,  even  on  the  open  streets 
of  Panama,  for  she  sees  the  Macagua  snake  in  her 
imagination,  and  a  woman  crazy  with  despair  holding 
it  on  high,  pursuing  the  shrieking  Montez  in  the  hut, 
careless  as  to  which  one  it  gives  death.  But  the  very 
horror  of  the  tragedy  ultimately  gives  her  strength. 
She  thinks  of  the  cruel  fate  of  Alice  Ripley,  and  deter- 
mines to  avenge  it,  and  this  nerves  her  to  do  things 
Louise  Minturn  could  hardly  have  brought  herself  to  do, 
until  Domingo  the  ex-pirate  had  told  his  awful  story  to 
lier  shuddering  ears. 

She  is  so  excited,  that  she  fears  her  agitation  may 
communicate  itself  to  the  invalid.  She  knows  this 
night  she  is  no  fit  nurse  for  anyone. 

So  she  sends  a  message  to  the  young  American,  Bovee, 
in  whose  room  Harry  Larchmont  still  lies  ;  and,  receiv- 
ing word  that  the  invalid  is  doing  very  well,  remains  at 
home  and  goes  to  bed  herself. 

The  next  morning  she  awakes  her  usual  self ;  for 
youth  and  hope  give  brightness  to  the  eyes  and  elasticity 
to  the  step  of  this  fair  young  maiden — even  in  this 
sickly  town  of  Panama — now  that  Harry  Larchmont  is 
getting  well. 

She  comes  into  the  sick-room  quite  cheerily  this  morn- 
ing, and  is  very  happy,  for  the  patient  is  much  better. 

14 


2IO  BARON    MONTEZ. 

A  moment  after,  the  doctor,  who  is  present  also,  says 
to  her  inquiring  glance  :  "  Yes,  you  can  give  him  the 
cablegram  now." 

This  she  does,  and  is  sorry  for  it. 

Glancing  at  it,  the  sick  man  utters  a  faint  cry,  and  tries 
to  struggle  up  in  his  bed. 

''What's  the  matter?"  whispers  the  doctor,  seizing 
him. 

"  My  brother!  "  shouts  Larchmont,  agitation  giving 
him  for  a  moment  strength.  "  My  heaven  !  He  is  wax  in 
Montez'  hands  !  I  must  go  to  Paris  at  once,  or  he  will 
marry  her  to  that  villain  before  I  get  there  !  It's — it's  a 
cable  from  Jessie." 

These  words  put  a  knife  in  Louise  Minturn's  heart. 

After  a  little,  when  the  doctor  has  quieted  the  p'atient, 
telling  him  he  will  soon  be  able  to  travel,  she  mutters  : 
"I  must  go!  "  And  despite  Harry's  pleadings  for  more 
of  her  society,  falters  from  the  room  to  her  office  labors 
at  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  murmuring  to  herself  in 
broken  voice  :  "  How  anxious  he  is  to  get  back  to  the 
side  of  his  love — the  girl  in  Paris !  All  he  fears  is  that 
he  will  lose  her  !  " 

At  the  office  she  contrives  to  get  through  her  work, 
which  is  very  little  just  now,  though  Aguilla  says  :  "  In 
a  few  minutes  I  will  have  something  to  say  to  you  !  " 

She  is  at  her  typewriter.  Suddenly  she  shudders  ; 
Domingo  stands  before  her. 

The  wine  has  left  him  now,  and  he  says  insinuatingly, 
a  cunning  gleam  in  his  eyes  :  "  What  did  I  do  last  night  ? 
Did  you  see  me  ?  Did  the  old  drunkard  swear  to  any 
wild  tale,  eh,  muchacha  bo7iita  ?  " 

The  girl,  steadying  herself,  replies  :  "  No,  though  you 
might  have — you  had  a  letter  to  write,  old  Domingo 
— only  you  were  a  little  overcome  with  wine — too  much 
to  speak  it  to  the  air.  If  you  will  tell  it  to  me  now,  I 
will  put  it  down  for  you." 

"  Oh,  I  told  you  nothing — that  was  well !  Never  be- 
lieve the  stories  of  the  drunkard  I  "  he  chuckles.  '*  But  I 
have  a  letter  to  write  to  mi  amigo^  Baron  Montez — one 
he  will  not  bless  you  for  sending." 

And  he  dictates  one  to  her,  of  a  threatening  kind,  in 
case  he  shall  lose  his  gold  that  he  has  saved  during  his 
many  years,  and  be  left  in  his  old  age  without  money  to 


BARON    MONTEZ.  211 

buy  for  him  the  pleasures  of  Hfe.  This  finished,  he 
snarls  :  "  Send  that  to  Montez  with  the  compliments  of 
Domingo  of  Porto  Bello  ! "  and  goes  off  to  the  wine- 
shop, for  there  is  still  some  money  in  his  pockets. 

Thinking  over  the  matter,  Louise  is  glad  she  has  given 
him  no  hint  of  his  revelation.  Domingo  drunk,  and 
Domingo  sober,  are  two  different  creatures.  Domingo 
drunk  will  babble  his  awful  tale  into  her  pretty  ears  : 
Domingo  sober  will  cut  her  white  throat  for  telling  it. 

A  moment  after,  she  hears  something  from  Aguilla 
that  expels  for  the  moment  all  thought  of  the  ex-pirate 
from  her  mind. 

He  leads  her  cautiously  into  his  private  office,  and 
says  :  "  This  that  I  tell  you  is  a  secret.  I  have  been 
kind  to  you,  while  you  have  been  here,  have  I  not  ? "  and 
pats  her  hand  as  if  to  beg  a  favor. 

"  Yes,"  answers  Louise,  "  very  kind  and  considerate, 
and  I  thank  you  for  it." 

"  Then  in  my  extremity,  remember  it !  You  are  the 
only  one  I  can  trust  to  do  this  thing.  My  clerks  here 
are  either  those  who  might  betray  me,  or  have  not  that 
certainty  of  character  that  is  necessary  in  this  delicate 
mission." 

"  What  do  you  wish  ? "  asks  the  girl,  nervously  ;  for 
his  manner  is  impressive. 

"  This  !  and  remember — I  am  placing  my  fortune  in 
your  hands — the  fortune  of  my  family  that  I  have  worked 
all  these  years  to  gain  !  I  want  you  to  prevent  my  part- 
ner, Baron  Montez  " — here  his  voice  grows  very  low — 
*'  from  rvining  me  !  " 

"  Ruining  you  ?  " 

"  Sh — sh  !  Not  so  loud  !  Yes.  What  he  has  done  here, 
to  those  about  him,  makes  me  know  I  am  not  safe  in  his 
hands.  I  fear  he  will  destroy  the  ledgers  of  our  firm  in 
Paris,  because  those  ledgers  show  that  I  am  rich — not  as 
he  is — but  still  enough.  There  is  but  one  chance  for  me. 
You  must  go  to  Paris  !  " 

"  To  Paris  !  "  gasps  Louise,  then  thinking  of  the  in» 
valid  still  pale  and  weak  and  needing  her  nursing,  she 
mutters,  "  Impossible  !  " 

"Imperative!"  answers  Aguilla.  "You  must  leave 
to-night  I  " 

"  But  my  patient  ?  " 


212  BARON    MONTEZ. 

*'  Leave  him  here.  He  is  out  of  danger,  I  am  not. 
My  salvation  depends  on  your  acting  for  me — in  time  ! 
I  shall  give  you  tickets  for  the  fast  steamer  leaving  Colon 
to-morrow  morning,  to  connect  at  St.  Thomas  with  the 
English  line  for  Southampton.  The  Biitish  ship  calls  at 
Cherbourg.  From  there  go  to  Paris,  immediately  !  At 
the  office  of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  deliver  to  the  gentle- 
man in  charge.  Monsieur  Gascoigne,  my  written  order  for 
you  to  examine  the  ledgers  of  the  firm,  and  take  off  cer- 
tain reports  therefrom." 

"  But,"  stammers  Louise,  "  Montez  is  there.  If  he 
means  to  do  what  you  fear,  he  will  refuse  ! " 

"  Montez  is  not  in  Paris  !  He  did  not  go  there  direct. 
He  will  stop  two  weeks  in  New  York — that  is  our  chance  ! 
You  will  get  there,  probably,  a  week  before  him  !  In  that 
time  you  must  take  a  record  of  the  ledgers  for  the  first 
four  months  of  1881-  That  was  the  time  when  we  sold 
out  most  of  our  stock  and  got  clear  of  Canal  Interoceanic. 
Have  your  excerpts  attested  by  Monsieur  Gascoigne  be- 
fore a  notary.  Then  if  Montez  destroys  the  books  or 
loses  the  books — or  they  fly  away  into  the  air,  I  am  safe 
— I  have  the  records  ! — he  cannot  rob  me  !  " 

"  But  why  not  go  yourself  ? " 

"  At  this  moment  it  is  impossible  !  My  wife  and  child 
are  sick — perhaps  dying — I  cannot  leave  them  !  There 
is  no  time  but  now !  I  must  trust  to  you  !  Will  you  do 
it?" 

"  Yes,  if  possible  !  "  cries  Louise,  a  sudden  wild  thought 
in  her  brain.     ''  I  will  tell  you  in  an  hour  !  " 

"  Very  well  !  If  you  will  not  go,  I  must  try  and  get 
some  one  else,  though  I  know  of  none  who  would  do  as 
well  !  "  murmurs  Aguilla. 

Then  the  girl  flies  off  to  the  bedside  of  Harry  Larch- 
mont. 

"  What   does   the    doctor   say   about   your   going   to 
Paris?"  she  asks  hurriedly. 
.    ''  Not  for  a  week  yet — at  best !  " 
.    "  Then  I  will  go  to  Paris  for  you  !  " 

*'  You  ?  How  will  you  prevent  Baron  Montez  marry- 
ing Jessie  Severn  ?  "  and  the  invalid  stabs  his  nurse  again. 

'■'■  Do  you  suppose  you  could  control  my  brother  ?  "  he 
goes  on  reflectively,  "  who  is  now  either  fool  or  imbecile, 
in  Paris  ?  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  213 

"  No,  but  I  can  do  something  else  for  you  !  "  murmurs 
the  girl,  whose  lips  tremble  at  the  mention  of  Miss 
Severn's  name.  "  You  told  me  once,  you  wanted  the 
secrets  of  Baron  Montez.  What  secret  do  you  want 
most  ? " 

"  The  most  important  to  me,"  murmurs  Larchmont, 
"  would  be  the  real  or  true  record  of  his  transactions 
'With  my  brother.  The  statements  he  has  furnished 
Frank,  I  have  looked  over  ;  they  are  incomprehensible, 
involved,  vague.     I  do  not  believe  them  true  !  " 

"  I  will  betray  them  to  you  !  " 

"  Impossible  !  " 

"  I  will  betray  Baron  Montez  to  you  !  I  will  use  my 
confidential  position  to  destroy  him  !  "  cries  Louise,  her 
face  excited. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  answers  the  man.  "  You  told  me  your 
business  honor  would  prevent  your  doing  that  !  "  Then 
he  falters  :  "  Not  even  to  save  me  a  fortune  or  my  brother 
his  honor,  will  I  permit  you  to  do  what  you  may  one 
day  blush  for  !  " 

"  My  business  honor  is  to  business  men — not  monsters, 
murderers,  and  bandits  !  "  answers  the  girl,  the  light  of 
passion  coming  into  her  eyes.  "  I  will  destroy  this  man 
as  he  has  destroyed  those  of  my  blood — remorselessly  as 
he  did  them  !  "  and  she  tells  him  the  story  of  Domingo, 
the  ex-pirate,  and  the  mission  that  Aguilla  would  give 
her  in  Paris. 

But  he  whispers  :  "  No  !  no  !  Montez  would  kill  you, 
if  you  brought  danger  upon  him  !  For  my  sake,  do  not 
go !  "  and  kisses  his  nurse's  hand,  murmuring  "  Promise  !  " 

"  I  must  go  !  " 

"  Not  till  I  go  with  you.     Promise  !  " 

But  she  does  not  understand,  and  breaks  away  from 
him  ;  but  lingers  at  the  door  and  kisses  her  hand  to 
him,  though  her  face  says  farewell. 

From  Harry's  side  she  flies  back  to  Aguilla  and  says  : 
"  I  accept.  I  will  do  what  you  wish,  faithfully  and 
truly  !  " 

"  Then  I  have  hope  !  "  answers  the  Frenchman,  and 
chuckles  in  his  bourgeois  way.  "  I  knew  you  would  ! 
You  are  a  true  girl  !  I  have  had  everything  prepared  ! 
Here  are  your  tickets  to  Paris,  complete  in  every  par- 
ticular.    Here  is  money  for  your  expenses  !  "     And  he 


214  BARON    iMONTEZ. 

gives  her  more  gold  than  she  has  ever  had  in  one  lump 
in  her  life  before.  "  Spare  no  expense.  This  letter  to 
the  firm  will  give  you  the  opportunities  you  want,  if  you 
get  to  Paris  before  Montez — that  is  the  vital  point !  " 

Then  she  suddenly  says  :  "  Where  shall  I  stay  in 
Paris  ?  A  young  lady  alone,  I  am  told,  is  very  un- 
pleasantly situated." 

"  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  a  friend  of  mine,  a  man  of 
family,"  answers  Aguilla.  Writing  this  last  and  handing 
it  to  her,  he  gives  her  another  thrill — for  he  says  :  "  You 
must  leave  this  afternoon  !  " 

*'  This  afternoon  ?  "  ejaculates  Louise. 

"  In  two  hours  !  The  steamer  leaves  Colon  to-morrow 
morning,  and  time  is  vital  !  " 

"Then  get  a  carriage  for  me,"  answers  Miss  Minturn, 
who  having  once  made  decision  carries  it  to  the  end. 
This  being  done  she  flies  to  the  house  of  Martinez  the 
notary,  and  astonishes  them  all.  She  says  she  is  going 
away. 

"  Next  month  ?  " 

"  No,  now  !  " 

"  Now  ?  Sanctus  Dominus  !  "  And  the  Spanish  family, 
not  accustomed  to  haste,  jabber  excitedly  about  her  as 
she  packs  her  trunk.  Feeling  she  has  not  strength  to  say 
good -by  to  the  man  for  whose  sake  she  is  really  going, 
Louise  scribbles  a  hasty  note  of  farewell  to  Harry  Larch- 
mont  ;  and  even  while  writing  it,  Aguilla  has  come  for 
her  with  a  carriage — he  is  in  such  a  hurry. 

The  two  drive  down  to  the  railroad,  the  Frenchman 
repeating  his  instructions  as  he  puts  her  on  the  train. 

Then  Louise  Minturn,  as  the  cars  run  out  of  Panama, 
the  excitement  of  departure  leaving  her,  falters  :  "  Who 
would  have  thought  it  this  morning  ?  I  am  going  to  Paris 
to  fight  Harry's  battle — to  win  his  love  for  him — to  win 
her  fortune  back  !  " 

Her  lovely  eyes  cannot  see  for  the  tears,  and  she  mur- 
murs :  "■  God  help  me  !  The  happier  I  make  him,  the 
more  unhappy  I  make  myself  !  I  wonder  if  he  will  ever 
know  ?  "  Then  determination  coming  to  her,  she  cries  : 
"  I  pray  God  not  !  " 

That  evening  a  little  note  is  brought  to  Harry  Larch- 
mont,  as  he  lies  in  his  cot,  in  the  town  of  Panama,  and 
he  mutters  :  "  Louise  has  broken  her  promise  !     She  has 


BARON    MONTEZ.  21$ 

left  me  !  She  has  gone  where  danger  and  death  may 
come  upon  her  !  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  Harry  !  "  says  his  friend  Bovee  ;  "  she 
has  only  gone  to  Paris,  and  Paris  is  not  fatal  to  all  pretty 
women." 

"  But  you  don't  know — he  may  kill  her  !  " 

"He— who?" 

'"  Baron  Montez  !  " 

At  this  his  friend  looks  curiously  at  him,  and  thinks  he 
is  raving  again  ;  so  curiously  that  Harry  says  :  '*  You 
need  not  feah  My  head  is  as  sane  as  yours,  only — 
God  help  me  !     She  has  left  me  !  " 

"  Oh,  you're  convalescent  now — you  can  get  along 
without  your  nurse  !  "  laughs  Bovee. 

^^  Not  when  I  love,  her  !  "  answers  Larchmont.  "  Love 
her  with  my  heart  and  my  soul  !  " 

"  Then,"  says  Bovee,  after  a  pause  of  astonishment : 
"I  can  give  you  better  medicine  than  the  doctor — the 
best  medicine  in  the  world  !  " 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  She  loves  you  !  " 

"  My  God  !     What  makes  you  think ? " 

"  She's  awfully  jealous  of  that  little  girl  in  Paris — and 
between  ourselves  you've  given  her  very  good  reason  in 
your  delirium  ravings." 

"  Jealous  of  Jessie  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  Ho!  ho  !  The  darhng  ! — 
jealous  of  my  brother's  little  ward  !  This  is  lovely ;  this 
is  funny  !     This  is  delightful,"  laughs  the  invalid. 

"  You  wouldn't  laugh  if  you'd  seen  her  look  at  you 
when  you  were  raving  about  the  other  girl,"  mutters 
Bovee  who  is  an  observer. 

"  I  brought  tears  to  her  ? '    murmurs  Harry. 

"  Yes  !  " 

"  Then  as  God's  above  me,  those  tears  shall  be  her 
last ! " 

"  All  right  !  To  keep  your  oath  pull  yourself  together, 
get  well,  and  we'll  ship  you  off  to  Paris  after  her  !  " 
answers  his  friend. 

Which  Mr.  Larchmont  does,  and  a  week  after  Miss 
Minturn  has  sailed  from  Colon,  Harry  reaches  that  place, 
to  follow  her  to  Paris,  He  is  much  stronger  now,  and 
the  sea-breeze  adds  to  his  strength,  day  by  day,  as  he 
sails  to  cooler  climes. 


2l6  BARON    MONTEZ. 

He  carries  with  him  something  that  keeps  his  mind 
occupied  during  the  voyage. 

As  he  is  leaving  Panama,  right  at  the  depot,  Mrs. 
VVinterburn  catches  him.  She  cries  eagerly,  for  the 
locomotive  has  already  whistled  :  "  Here's  something 
my  husband  says  belongs  to  Louise  ;  "  and  gives  him 
the  beautiful  string  of  pearls  found  in  the  powder  canis- 
ter. "And  here's  something  Miss  Minturn  left  in  the 
hurry  of  bolting.  It's  a  book  of  writing  :  she  had  only 
an  hour  to  pack,  and  forgot  it."  With  this  Susie  presses 
into  Larchmont's  hand  a  large  manuscript  volume. 

"  Great  goodness  !  It's  her  diary  !  "  he  gasps,  gazing 
at  the  outside  of  it,  and  would  give  it  back  to  Mrs.  VVin- 
terburn, but  the  train  is  already  moving,  for  a  curiosity 
has  come  upon  him  of  which  he  is  afraid. 

But  he  locks  the  book  up  in  his  trunk,  and  fights  with 
himself,  saying  :  "  No,  no.  I'll  not — read  this — if  I  die 
of  wanting."  But  one  day  as  he  moves  it,  gazing  at  it 
with  longing  eyes,  some  things  fall  out  of  it. 

With  a  cry  of  love  and  joy  he  picks  them  up  and  look- 
ing on  them  mutters  :  "  These  are  mine — they  were  mine 
before  they  were  hers."  And  goes  about  happy  but  ex- 
pectant. They  are  his  bunch  of  violets  and  card  of 
the  blizzard. 

And  so,  coming  into  Paris,  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  of  an  early  June  day,  Harry  Larchmont  is  pretty 
much  his  old  self  again,  though  his  face  is  still  pale,  and 
there  is  a  very  anxious  expression  in  his  eyes. 

Driving  up  to  the  hotel  of  his  brother  in  the  Boulevard 
Malesherbes^  near  the  Park  Monceau,  he  is  let  in  by 
Robert  the  old-time  servitor,  with  exclamations  of  delight 
and  welcome,  and  finds  something  that  astounds  him — 
that  something  that  often  comes  to  us — the  great— the 

UNEXPECTED  ! 


BOOK    V. 
The    Hurly- Burly    in    Paris. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE    MIND    OF    A    LUNATIC. 

The  door  is  closed  behind  him.  Harry  says  to  the  old 
man:  "Robert,  just  get  my  baggage  up-stairs ;  and 
where  is  my  brother  ?  " 

"  Trunks,  yes,  sir,"  replies  Robert.  Then  he  turns  to 
Mr.  Larchmont,  and  astonishes  him.  For  he  says : 
"  Thank  God,  you  have  come,  sir  !  It  was  on  my  mind 
to  speak  to  a  lawyer  to-morrow  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  asks  Harry.  "  Anything 
wrong  ?  "  for  Robert's  manner  is  alarming. 

"Yes,  sir!  Mr.  Frank,  your  brother — he's  sick.  I 
think  it's  his  head."  The  man  waves  his  hand  about 
his  honest  Breton  brow,  as  if  driving  away  phantoms. 
"  But  you  had  better  go  in  and  see  him  yourself,  sir,  at 
once." 

"  Very  well,"  says  Harry.     ''  Is  he  at  dinner  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  he  don't  dine  much,  sir,  and  Miss  Jessie  ancl 
her  governess  generally  eat  up-stairs,  sir." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  the  library." 

And  Robert  shows  Harry  Larchmont  in  to  a  dimly 
lighted  room,  where  a  man  is  seated  before  a  writing 
table,  his  head  in  his  hands. 

Harry  cries  out :  "  Frank,  I've  come  back  from 
Panama  safe  !     The  fever  didn't  kill  me  !  " 

"  Ah,  thank  God  !  Harry  !  You  are  come  !  "  answers 
the   brother,    rising,    and   the   two   wring   each    other's 


2t8  baron  montez. 

hands  ;  though  Frangois  after  the  manner  of  the  French 
would  kiss. 

"  Let  me  have  a  Httle  light  to  look  at  you,"  says  the 
younger  one,  for  the  tones  of  Francois  Leroy  Larch- 
mont's  voice  have  given  him  a  peculiar  thrill,  they  are 
so  nervous  yet  so  muffled  ;  the  timbre  of  the  voice  seems 
to  be  changed.     It  is  as  if  his  tongue  were  clumsy. 

Lighting  the  room,  Harry  Larchmont  looks  at  his 
brother,  and  can  hardly  restrain  an  exclamation,  the 
shock  of  his  appearance  is  so  great. 

The  face  that  had  been  round  and  rather  full,  has 
grown  thin  and  drawn.  The  eyes  have  a  watchful  fur- 
tive glance,  as  if  looking  for  something,  partly  in  terror, 
partly  in  surprise — a  something  that  is  always  coming 
but  never  comes. 

Before  the  younger  man  can  speak,  the  elder  breaks 
out  :  "  Thank  God  !  You've  come  to  save  Jessie  from 
marrying  that  infernal  villain — that  Montez  of  Panama 
and  Paris  ! "  Then,  not  waiting  for  an  answer,  he 
jumps  on,  the  words  coming  from  him  in  jerks :  ''  I've 
had  cables  from  him  !  Threatening  cables  I — from  New 
York  !  cables  that  alarmed  me  so  much  !  cables  I— that  I 
had  all  the  preparations  made  for  the  wedding — the 
trousseau  ordered  here — knick-knacks  and  folderols ! 
He  is  coming  to-morrow  !  But  you — thank  God  ! — in 
time  !  Henri,  my  brother  !  save  me  from  him  !  "  and  he 
shudders  as  if  frightened. 

"Let  me  look  at  his  cables,"  remarks  Harry  grimly. 

The  other  exhibits  to  him  rapidly,  three — one  from 
Panama,  two  from  New  York.  The  general  tenor  of 
these  is  for  Frangois  to  make  all  the  preparations  for  the 
wedding,  that  must  take  place  on  Montez'  arrival  in 
Paris,  though  there  is  a  peculiar  ambiguous  threatening 
in  them. 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  his  hints  ?  "  asks  Harry,  and 
is  astounded  at  the  reply. 

His  brother  suddenly  giggles  :  *'  Ah,  ha  !  I  bribed  the 
deputies  for  him  !  The  deputies  for  the  Canal  Bill  ! 
The  Lottery  Bill  !  It  went  through  the  Bureau  of 
Deputies,  a  few  nights  ago  !  I  bribed  them  !  He  hints, 
he  absolutely  dares  to  hint,  at  threatening  me  with  this, 
the  wretch  !  for  doing  his  work — oh  ho  !  his  orders  !  " 
Then  he  shudders  :  "  Henri,  protect  me  !  " 


liARON    MONTEZ.  2ig 

"  Certainly  !  "  mutters  the  younger  man,  almost  too 
overcome  to  speak,  for  there  is  something  in  his  brother's 
manner  that  makes  him  fear  for  his  intellect,  though  he 
meditates  :  "  Why  could  I  not  threaten  Montez  also  ?  If 
it  is  against  the  law  for  my  brother,  it  is  against  the  law 
for  him  I  " 

But  as  Harry  looks  on  Frangois  Leroy  Larchmont,  who 
has  suddenly  begun  to  tell  him  cf  a  new  opera,  he  casts 
this  from  his  mind,  speculating  :  "What  jury  would  be- 
lieve his  evidence  ? " 

Frangois  is  never  quiet  long.  He  breaks  in  suddenly  : 
"  But  about  this  marriage.  I  have  had  a  plan — a  great 
plan.  Within  the  last  three  days  I  have  discovered  how 
to  postpone  the  wedding!  What  do  you  think  I  have 
done  ?     I  have  made  Jessie  younger  !  " 

"  Made  Jessie  younger  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  she  is  now  only  eleven  !  " 

To  this  Harry  returns,  his  voice  very  serious  :  "  Where 
is  she?" 

"  Oh,  up-stairs,  studying  her  lessons,  I  presume.  You'll 
see  her  in  a  moment !  "  Frangois  rings  the  bell,  and 
Robert  making  his  appearance,  he  commands  sternly  : 
"  Bring  the  child  down  !  " 

At  which,  stifling  a  grin,  the  servant  goes  away  ;  but  a 
minute  after,  reappears  with  a  subdued  but  frightened 
giggle,  saying  :  "  The  child  says  she  won't  come  down  !  " 

"  Very  well,  I'll  see  her  myself !  "  answers  Harry. 
*'  Never  mind  about  coming  with  me,  Frank  !  You  stay 
here  quietly,"  for  there  is  an  indefinite  fear  in  his  mind — 
a  fear  of  something,  he  does  not  know  what,  as  he  steps 
in  the  hall. 

Noting  his  face,  the  servant  whispers  to  him :  "  Miss 
Severn  is  all  right  !  She's  up-stairs  with  her  governess, 
locked  in.     They're  frightened  to  death  of  him  !  " 

So  Harry,  going  up,  raps  on  the  door,  and  the  faint 
voice  of  the  governess  comes  faltering  through  the  pan- 
els :  "  Miss  Jessie  is  at  her  lessons — she  can't  be  dis- 
turbed, M-m-monsieur  Francois." 

*'  Never  mind  whether  she's  at  her  lessons,  or  not," 
cries  Harry.  "  It  is  I,  Harry  Larchmont  !  Open  the 
door !  " 

In  a  second  the  key  is  turned  in  the  lock,  the  bolt 
slipped,  and  he  finds  himself  with  both  the  governess 


220  BARON    MON  TEZ. 

and  Miss  Severn  hugging  him  together,  and  sobbing  : 
"Thank  God,  you  have  come  !     Thank  God  I  " 

But  here  he  utters  a  cry  of  astonishment,  and  ejacu- 
lates :  "  What's  this  ?     The  ballet,  or  skirt  dancers  ?  " 

And  Miss  Jessie  cries  :  "  Good  heavens  !  don't  you 
know  ?     I'm  a  child  again  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  very  pretty  child  !  "  laughs  Harry,  for 
relief  has  come  to  him. 

At  which  the  young  lady  puts  on  a  very  blushing  face, 
and  says  :  "  Now  don't  be  awful  !  No  joking  !  I  had  to 
do  it !  Frank  came  up  three  days  ago,  and  frightened 
me  and  my  governess  to  death.  He  said  I  was  a  child 
once  more  !  He  had  my  governess  make  short  dresses 
for  me.  He  said  that  would  prevent  Montez  from  mar- 
rying me  so  soon  !     I  would  be  too  young  !  " 

"  How  dared  you  do  this  ? "  asks  Larchmont  savagely 
of  the  governess. 

The  woman  bursts  out  sobbing,  and  gasps,  her  nerves 
having  given  way:  "Wouldn't  you  do  anything,  if  he 
had  a  pistol  in  his  hands,  and  said  it  was  the  will  of 
God?" 

"  But  why  didn't  you  escape  from  here  ?  "  asks  Harry, 
turning  to  Miss  Jessie. 

"  How  could  I  go  out  in  these  clothes  ?  He  took  all 
the  rest  away  !  Look  at  me  !  "  Then  she  suddenly  cries, 
"  No  !  For  heaven's  sake  don't  look  !  "  for  Harry  is  obey- 
ing her,  and  turning  his  eyes  upon  a  babyish  but  alluring 
picture.  Miss  Severn  is  dressed  as  a  Parisian  child  of 
eleven,  with  very  short  skirts,  with  very  pink  silk  stock- 
ings TiSid.  petite  slippers,  and  baby  waist  with  blue  knots  of 
ribbon  upon  her  gleaming  shoulders  and  round  white 
arms,  and  golden  hair  hanging  in  one  long  juvenile//]f- 
tail. 

"Then  why  didn't  your  governess  go?"  mutters 
Larchmont,  stifling  a  guffaw. 

"  She  was  too  frightened  to  move,  so  we  just  locked 
ourselves  in.  Please — please  don't  laugh  at  me  !  I — 
it's  awful  !  " 

"And  Mrs.  Dewitt?" 

"  Mrs.  Dewitt  has  been  in  Switzerland  for  a  week. 
She  will  return  soon." 

"  We  knew  you  were  coming  also,"  continues  Jessie. 
"We  had  seen  your  telegram.     We  thought  it  best  to 


BARON    MONTEZ.  221 

await  your  arrival.  It  would  make  such  an  awful  scan- 
dal about  poor  Frank  !  But,  oh,"  here  her  eyes  grow 
frightened,  ''don't  leave  me  with  him  !" 

"  How  long  has  this  thing  been  coming  on  the  poor 
fellow  down-stairs  ? " 

"  Well,  when  we  came  back,  Frank  was  all  right,  and  I 
had  a  very  pleasant  time  in  society  here,  but  each  day, 
f  Of 'the  last  two  months,  he's  been  growing  more  nervous. 
I  think  it's  the  threats  of  that  awful  man,  the  Baron 
Montez,  made  to  him  before  he  left  for  Panama.  Then  he 
has  been  very  busy  doing  something  political,  he  says  ; 
but  only  three  days  ago  did  this  peculiar  freak  come 
upon  him." 

"  You  saw  Baron  Montez  when  he  left  for  Panama  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  once.  He  left  Paris  just  as  we  got  here.  To 
please  Frank  I  went  down  to  see  him.  I — I  had  to — 
Frank  is  frightened  to  death  of  him."  Then  she  whis- 
pers "  He  is  making  preparations  for  my  wedding.  The 
trousseau  is  here.  The  time  has  been  fixed  by  cable  ; " 
next  giggles  :  "Would  you  like  to  see  the  bride's  dress  ?" 

This  is  said  so  carelessly  that  Larchmont  is  astonished. 
He  asks  :  "  Did  you  not  fear  that  Montez  might  really 
marry  you  ? " 

"  No,"  replies  the  girl,  looking  with  trustful  blue  eyes 
into  his,  with  such  faith  that  it  gives  him  a  shock.  "No, 
because  you  had  sworn  that  I  should  never  marry  him ! " 

Then  Larchmont  says  quietly  to  the  governess  :  "  I 
will  make  proper  arrangements  for  Miss  Severn  so  that 
she  can  come  down-stairs  with — propriety." 

At  which  the  girl  gives  a  little  affrighted  "  Oh  !  "  and 
stands  a  beautiful  and  blushing  picture. 

From  this  the  young  man  turns  with  a  sad  but  stern 
face,  and  goes  down-stairs  to  see  his  brother,  and  coming 
into  the  library  is  greeted  with  :  "  Is  the  child  still  sulky?  " 

"  No,"  returns  Harry,  "the  child  is  quiescent." 

"  Ah  !  "  remarks  Francois,  contemplatively.  Then  he 
suddenly  giggles  :  "  She  was  in  a  devil  of  a  temper  till  I 
kodaked  her  !  " 

"  You — did — what  ?  "  ejaculates  Harry,  for  the  term  is 
a  new  one. 

"  Yes,  snapped  her  in — photographed  her — I've  her 
picture  here.  I'm  going  to  send  one  to  Montez."  And 
Fran9ois,  who  is  an  amateur  at  everything,  produces  a 


222  BARON    MONTEZ. 

carte  de  visite  of  Miss  Jessie  that  makes  Harry  Larchmont, 
serious  as  is  the  situation,  guffaw. 

"  Would  even  Montez  dare  to  marry  such  an  awful 
child  as  that  ?  "  remarks  Frank. 

"  No.  I'm  blowed  if  he  would  !  "  returns  Harry  :  for 
he  is  looking  at  the  most  enfant  terrible  on  record. 

Miss  Jessie's  blue  eyes  are  starting  out  of  her  head  in 
horror,  but  have  tears  in  them  ;  her  mouth  is  pouting,  but 
wildly  savage  ;  her  pigtail  is  flying  out  in  the  breeze  ; 
she  seems  about  to  fly  at  the  camera  and  destroy  it  ;  in 
fact,  this  had  been  her  idea,  but  Frank  had  snapped  too 
quickly  and  too  deftly. 

"  Wouldn't  that  make  an  artist's  fortune  !  "  remarks 
Francois.  "  I  shall  ask  her  to  pose  for  me — you  know  I 
daub  a  little — at  least  I  did  before  that  villain  Montez 
made  me  walk  the  floor  all  night  !  "  Then  he  moans, 
"  Save  me  !     He'll  put  me  in  prison  !  " 

Meeting  Harry's  eyes,  Fran9ois  Leroy  Larchmont 
droops  his,  as  his  brother  says  :  "  There  is  only  one  thing 
to  do,  Frank  !  You,  yourself,  when  you  think  of  it, 
must  conclude  that  I  am  the  only  one  to  protect  you 
from  Baron  Montez  !  " 

*'  Yes,"  answers  the  other,  "  I  have  prayed  for  your 
coming  !  " 

"  Very  well  then,  in  order  to  save  you  from  the  man 
you  fear,  I  must  have  the  full  direction  of  everything. 
You  must  assign  your  guardianship,  under  the  French 
Jaw,  of  Miss  Severn,  to  me.  She  will  assent  to  it"  in 
writing,  and  at  her  age,  it  will  be  legal. " 

''  You — you — "  gasps  the  weak  man,  "  will  give  me  a 
receipt  for  Jessie's  property,  so  that  they  cannot  prose- 
cute me  for  losing  it — 3.  full  receipt  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  the  other  quietly,  "a  full  receipt,  to  save 
your  name  !  "  And  he  breaks  out :  "  Good  heavens  ! 
You  don't  suppose  that  I  could  ever  let  a  child,  your 
ward,  lose  her  property  through  you  !  That  would  be  a 
disgrace  upon  our  family  forever.  But  you  must  turn  me 
over  everything  you  have." 

"  All  right !     Only  save  me  from  Montez  !  " 

*'  Very  well  !  "  remarks  Harry,  "give  me  your  keys  !  ** 

He  steps  into  the  hall  and  says  to  Robert  :  "  Do  you 
know  a  notary  near  here  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 


BARON    MONTEZ.  223 

"  Send  for  him  !  " 

But  Robert,  about  to  go,  suddenly  whispers  :  '•  Look 
out  for  his  pistol  !  " 

"  His  pistol  I     Where  is  it  ?  " 

'*  He's  got  it  on,  sir,"  says  the  man.  "  That's  the  reason 
I  obey  him  so  quickly." 

'•  Has  he  ?  "  says  Larchmont,  and  stepping  back  into 
the  library,  he  remarks  :  "  Frank,  I've  got  to  go  out  this 
evening,  after  I  get  through  my  business  with  you.  I 
left  my  revolver  in  Panama.  I  have  got  so  used  to  carry- 
ing one,  I  shall  not  feel  safe  without  it." 

"  Oh,  take  mine  !  "  cries  his  brother,  cheerfully,  and 
he  hands  him  a  very  impressive  looking  weapon,  remark- 
ing casually  :  "  I  brought  it  to  coerce  the  governess, 
but  have  lately  used  it  upon  mice  in  the  cellar.  It 
will  slay  a  mouse  at  four  yards  !  "  Then  a  sudden  and 
awful  tone  coming  into  his  voice,  which  makes  Harry 
very  happy  he  has  the  pistol  in  his  own  hands,  he  mut- 
ters :  "  Besides,  on  the  wedding  day — after  the  bride  was 
married — 1  had  thoughts " 

"  Thoughts  of  what  ?  "  asks  Harry  uneasily. 

"  Thoughts  !  thoughts  !  "  says  the  other.  "  Just 
thoughts  !  " 

"  Won't  you  come  in  to  dinner  ?  "  suggests  the  younger 
Larchmont,  anxious  to  cut  short  this  musing  of  his 
brother. 

"  No,  I  never  dine  now.  Perpetual  Lent  with  me,  mon 
ami.  Perhaps,  after  all  is  over,  and  I  have  tried  every- 
thing, I  may  turn  monk !  It  is  well  to  learn  to  fast." 
Then  Fran9ois'  tone  becomes  suddenly  anxious,  and  he 
murmurs  :  "  If  I  do  not  do  what  he  tells  me,  he  has  threat- 
ened to  turn  me  out  of  here — to  turn  me  into  the  streets 
to  starve — I — a  Larchmont,  starve — I — who  have  never 
been  hungry  before  !     I  am  educating  myself  for  this." 

"You  need  have  no  fear  of  that  now,"  remarks  Harry 
confidently.     "  Here's  the  notary." 

And  that  official  being  shown  in  shortly  thereafter, 
Francois  Leroy  Larchmont  assigns  his  guardianship  of 
Miss  Severn  to  Harry  ;  and  Harry  acknowledges  receiv- 
ing the  fortune  of  the  young  lady. 

To  the  first  of  this  it  is  best  to  get  Jessie's  assent, 
which  she  is  delighted  to  give  ;  the  notary  going  up  to 
her  to  take  her  signature. 


224  BARON    MONTEZ. 

So  coming  from  this  interview,  telling  Robert  to  send 
one  of  the  other  servants  out  for  a  doctor,  and  to  watch 
at  the  door  to  see  his  brother  does  not  leave  the  room, 
Harry  Larchmont  goes  to  dinner,  with  but  very  little 
appetite.  He  has,  however,  made  arrangements  for  the 
restoration  of  Miss  Severn's  wardrobe,  and  that  young 
lady  flits  down  to  him,  in  a  very  pretty  dignified  evening 
dress,  though  she  sometimes  pulls  down  her  skirt  as  if 
anxious  to  make  it  longer,  and  once  or  twice  takes  a  look 
at  her  train  to  be  sure  it  is  there.  As  he  eats  she  pro- 
ceeds to  give  him  further  details  of  the  last  three  days, 
some  of  which  would  make  him  laugh,  were  they  not 
additional  evidences  that  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont  has 
lost  the  weak  mind  he  had,  through  his  fears  of  Baron 
Montez. 

An  hour  after  this,  a  distinguished  French  physician 
comes,  and  after  examination  tells  Harry  that  just  at 
present  these  peculiar  disorders  are  so  ambiguous,  he 
cannot  tell  whether  the  disease  of  his  brother  will  be 
permanent,  or  not.  He  must  study  the  case  for  a  few 
days. 

"  It  may  be  only  the  nerves — it  may  be  the  brain.  If 
the  latter,  it  is  probably  hopeless  !  At  any  event,  he 
must  have  attendants.  •  He  must  be  watched.  He  must 
not  be  let  go  out  of  the  house  alone.  If  Mr.  Larchmont 
wishes,  he  will  send  him  two  reliable  men." 

''Very  well,"  says  Harry;  "I  am  much  obliged  to 
you,  doctor.     Do  as  you  suggest." 

An  hour  afterwards,  two  quiet  but  determined-looking 
men  come. 

"  Who  are  these  ?"  asks  Frangois  uneasily. 

"  Two  secret  police  to  guard  you  from  Baron  Montez," 
whispers  his  brother, 

"  Ho,  ho  !  Then  we  have  Fernando  !  "  chuckles 
Frank  as  the  men  attend  him  up-stairs. 

Satisfied  that  his  brother  will  be  taken  care  of,  Harry 
thinks  he  would  like  a  cigar  in  the  open  air. 

The  night  is  a  beautiful  one.  He  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  open  rooms  on  the  Isthmus,  and  to  sea-breezes 
on  the  steamer.  He  thinks  he  can  better  meditate  upon 
the  awful  situation  in  which  he  is  placed,  in  the  open  air. 
He  must  turn  over  several  things  in  his  mind.  Of 
course  his  brother's  signature  to  the  document,  making 


BARON    MONTEZ.  225 

him  Jessie's  guardian,  will  legally  amount  to  nothing  ; 
still,  with  her  consent,  he  knows  a  French  court  will 
doubtless  transfer  the  guardianship  to  him. 

Then  he  suddenly  thinks  of  the  paper  that  he  has 
signed,  receipting  for  all  of  this  girl's  fortune— a  million 
dollars — five  million  francs!  He  is  no  lunatic.  He  is 
liable  for  all  of  it! 

"He  knows  that  his  brother  can  turn  over  to  him  but 
very  little  of  the  orphan's  estate,  and  he  mutters  :  "  I  am 
afraid  I  have  crippled  myself  !  Unless  I  can  force  Mon- 
tez  to  disgorge,  I  am  now  comparatively  poor  1  If  I 
marry,  I  shall  not  have  wealth  enough  to  retain  my  posi- 
tion in  New  York  society  !  " 

Then  he  communes  with  himself :  *'  There  is  but  one 
I  want  to  marry,  and  if  she  will  have  me,  we  can  be  happy 
in  a  flat !  I  imagine  she  was  living  in  one  when  I  first 
met  her  !  " 

The  servants,  tired  with  their  duties  of  the  day,  have 
all  gone  to  bed.  Harry  hesitates  to  trouble  them.  He 
opens  the  front  door  himself,  to  receive  another  sensa- 
tion of  this  night  in  Paris. 

Almost  as  his  hand  is  on  the  door,  there  is  a  ring,  and 
as  he  throws  the  portal  open,  he  finds  himself  standing 
face  to  face  with  Louise  Minturn — her  bosom  panting, 
her  eyes  bright.  She  mutters  to  him  :  "  Thank  God,  you 
are  here  on  time  I  " 

Then  she  thrusts  something  into  his  hand  and  whispers, 
a  frightened  tone  in  her  voice  :  "  That  will  save  your 
brother's  and  his  ward's  fortune  from  Baron  Montez  ! 
Hold  to  it,  as  to  your  life  !  It  contains  the  secrets  of 
the  man  you  are  to  fight  against !  I  think  I  have  saved 
your  fortune,  but  fear  I  am  pursued  by  the  police  !  " 

The  something  is  the  bulky,  big  pocketbook  of 
Baron  Fernando  Montez  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

the    honor    of    FRANCE. 

Miss  Louise  Minturn  arrives  in  Paris  on  schedule 
time.     The  weather   has   been   very  pleasant — the  sun 
15 


226  BARON    MONTEZ. 

bright.  She  has  sailed  over  a  summer  sea  ;  so  it  comes 
to  pass,  that  early  one  morning,  in  the  latter  part  of  May, 
arriving  by  the  Chemin  de  Fer  deV Quest  she  drives  straight 
from  the  Rue  Saint  Lazare,  and  presents  her  letter  of 
introduction  from  Aguilla,  to  Monsieur  Jacques  Pichoir, 
a  shopkeeper,  who  has  a  jewelry  store  on  the  Boulevard 
des  ItalienSy  and  a  comfortable  home  near  by  on  the  Rue 
Lafitte. 

By  this  gentleman  she  is  most  cordially  received.  Be- 
sides being  an  old  friend,  he  is  under  considerable  trade 
obligations  to  Aguilla,  whose  letter  is  a  pressing  one  ; 
therefore  Louise  shortly  afterward  finds  herself  very  com- 
fortably domiciled  with  the  family  of  the  jeweller.  At 
noon  that  day,  she  stating  that  her  business  is  pressing,  he 
kindly  takes  her  through  the  crowds  congregating  about 
that  temple  of  Paris  speculation,  the  Bourse^  to  the  office 
of  Montez,  Aguilla  et  Cie.,  on  the  Rue  Vivienne,  just  off 
the  Boulevard  Montmartre. 

Here  she  presents  her  business  letter  from  Aguilla 
in  Panama,  to  the  manager,  one  Achille  Gascoigne,  and  is 
informed  by  him  that  Baron  Montez  sails  this  very  day 
from  New  York  on  the  Normandie.  He  has  just  received 
a  cable  to  that  effect. 

This  news  is  received  by  Louise  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
though  she  succeeds  in  making  it  inaudible. 

Then  Monsieur  Gascoigne,  begging  her  to  be  seated, 
examines  her  despatches  from  Panama,  and  looks  a  little 
■troubled.  They  are  direct  orders  from  the  junior  part- 
ner, for  the  bearer  of  the  letter,  Mademoiselle  Minturn, 
to  make  such  copies  of  the  ledgers  as  she  has  been 
directed  ;  and,  furthermore,  for  Monsieur  Gascoigne 
himself  to  certify  to  their  correctness.  Still  that  gentle- 
man hesitates. 

He  would  cable  Baron  Montez,  if  that  were  possible, 
but  his  chief  is  on  the  ocean. 

He  comes  in  and  suggests  affably,  for  Achille  Gas- 
coigne is  a  man  of  compromises:  "Mademoiselle  Min- 
turn, you  had  better  wait  until  Baron  Montez  arrives." 

"  Impossible  !  "  falters  the  girl,  and  her  heart  nearly 
stops  beating  at  the  suggestion. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  can  have  a  pleasant  time  in  gay 
Paris  for  a  week.     Your  salary  will,  of  course,  go  on  I  " 

"  In  a  week  I  must  be  on  my  way  back  to  Panama  ! " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  227 

says  Louise,  determinedly,  almost  desperately.  ''  You 
have  your  written  orders  from  the  junior  partner  of  the 
firm.  I  have  mine  also.  If  I  do  not  obey  them — "  here 
feminine  artifice  comes  to  her,  and  she  mutters  :  "  I  shall 
lose  my  position  !  "  tears  in  her  lovely  eyes — partly 
those  of  artifice,  partly  those  of  disappointment. 

,  .This  remark  ab^ut  losing  her  position  impresses  itself 
upon  Gascoigne,  for  he  has  also  a  very  good  one.  He  is 
now  between  two  mill-stones.  He  does  not  know  what 
Montez  will  say  to  this  ;  but  he  knows  very  well  what 
Aguilla  will  say  to  disobedience  of  his  orders. 

"  I  would  cable "  he  murmurs  hesitatingly. 

"  Cable  !  "  answers  Louise.  "  That's  right  !  Cable 
Panama  quickly,  if  you  have  any  doubt  of  my  authority 
and  my  directions." 

"I  will  do  so,"  murmurs  Gascoigne.  ''You  will  ex- 
cuse me — it  is  a  matter  of  such  importance  !  " 

He  cables,  and  receives  such  an  answer  from  Aguilla, 
that  the  next  morning  he  throws  open  the  old  ledgers  of 
the  firm,  in  hurry  and  trepidation,  to  the  young  lady's 
prying  eyes  and  ready  pen. 

These  back  ledgers  are  all  kept  in  an  office  adjoining 
the  private  one  of  the  firm  ;  a  door  opens  into  it,  so  that 
ready  access  can  be  had  to  the  books  in  case  it  should  be 
necessary  to  refer  to  them.  These  ledgers  are  locked  up 
in  a  large  safe.  This  is  opened,  and  they  are  placed  at 
Miss  Minturn's  disposal. 

Then  the  girl  finds  an  enormous  work  before  her. 
She  has  four  months  of  very  heavy  and  diverse  transac- 
tions to  take  down  from  that  great  ledger.  It  must  be 
done  before  Montez'  arrival. 

She  works  at  this  from  early  morning  until  they  close 
the  office  ;  and,  telling  Gascoigne  she  must  labor  at  night, 
this  gentleman  kindly  unlocks  the  office  and  safe  doors 
for  her  in  the  evening,  as  he  goes  to  some  place  of  amuse- 
ment ;  and  coming  back,  on  his  return  from  ca/e  chantafit, 
or  operetta,  or  some  other  nocturnal  enjoyment,  puts  away 
the  ledgers,  lets  the  young  lady  out,  and  locks  up.  For 
her  evening  visits  Louise  hires  a  carriage.  Promenading 
the  streets  of  Paris  alone  at  night  would  be  very  un- 
pleasant for  a  lady,  and  Aguilla  has  told  her  to  spare  no 
expense. 

While  looking  over  these  accounts,  the  name  of  Fran- 


228  BARON    MONTEZ. 

9ois  Leroy  Larchmont  comes  under  her  eyes,  and  in  copy- 
ing the  ledger,  the  peculiarity  of  the  entries  astonishes 
her.  Wonderment  comes  into  her  face — then,  sudden 
hope. 

So  in  making  memoranda  of  the  general  ledger  for 
Aguilla,  she  takes  a  complete  account,  through  all  the 
back  years,  as  the  ledgers  are  at  her  hand,  of  the  trans- 
actions in  stocks  of  the  Panama  Canal  and  other  securi- 
ties, made  for  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont,  and  thinks  : 
"Perhaps  these  are  what  Harry  wants." 

These  accounts,  she  unites  with  the  general  accounts 
of  the  firm,  and  gets  Monsieur  Gascoigne's  signature  to 
their  correctness  before  a  notary,  day  by  day,  ostensibly 
for  the  use  of  Aguilla  in  Panama. 

But  time  has  flown  !  While  she  has  been  doing  this 
work  in  Paris,  the  two  steamers,  one  bearing  Baron  Fer- 
nando Montez  from  New  York,  and  the  other  bringing 
Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont  from  Colon,  are  ploughing 
their  way  towards  the  shores  of  France. 

The  days  have  passed  rapidly.  Louise  has  forgotten 
that  Montez  will  shortly  be  due,  and  one  evening,  having 
been  let  in  to  do  this  work,  she  scribbles  away  until 
eleven  o'clock,  and  looking  up,  with  tired  hands  and 
pallid  face,  murmurs :  **  It  is  done,  thank  God,  in 
time  !  " 

Is  IT  ? 

Then  she  waits  for  Monsieur  Gascoigne  to  come  and 
lock  up  the  place,  and  let  her  out. 

But  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  voices  come  to  her,  and 
she  hears  two  steps  instead  of  one.  Her  cheeks  grow 
suddenly  ashen,  she  hurriedly  turns  out  the  light  in  her 
room  ;  for  one  is  the  voice  of  Baron  Fernando  Montez 
of  Panama,  and  the  other  that  of  Herr  Alsatius  Wernig  of 
Paris.     Both  are  angry  and  excited. 

The  girl's  lips  tremble;  she  wonders:  "What  will 
Montez  do  to  me  when  he  finds  me  here  alone,  at  night, 
and  unprotected — a  spy  upon  him  ?  " 

As  she  thinks,  she  thrusts  her  memoranda  made  this 
evening  into  her  pocket.  Suddenly  there  is  a  match 
struck  ;  the  gas  blazes  in  the  next  room,  the  private 
office  of  the  firm.  Then  the  voices  of  the  man  of  all 
nations,  and  the  German,  come  to  her  ;  for  the  door  is 
slightly  open. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  229 

She  peeps  in.  The  Baron  is  in  travelling  costume,  a 
little  grip-sack  in  his  hand  ;  the  German,  in  the  full 
evening-dress  of  the  Boulevards^  with  white  vest,  snowy 
shirt,  diamond  studs^  and  opera  hat  and  coat. 

Montez  says:  "My  friend,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I 
will  go  and  have  a  little  dinner.  I  simply  drove  here 
direct  from  the  Gare  Sai?tt  Lazare  to  get  my  mail,  and  I 
find  you  waiting  at  the  door  of  my  office  for  me." 

"  Yes,  1  knew  you  would  come  here  first,"  answers  the 
German,  ''and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  see  you  before  you 
saw  anyone  else.  The  Lottery  Bill  has  passed  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies." 

"  Of  course — two  weeks  ago  !  But  not  the  Senate," 
remarks  Montez.     "That  will  come  later." 

"  To  be  sure  !  And  now  I  come  to  you  for  my  divi- 
dend !  " 

"  Your  dividend  on  what  ?  " 

"  My  dividend  on  the  money  left  from  what  you  re- 
ceived to  assist  the  passing  of  this  bill.  The  money  you 
did  7iot  give  to  press  writers  or  deputies — the  residue — 
the  large  residue  !  " 

Then  he  goes  on,  laughingly  :  "  Ah,  you  are  a  deep  one, 
Montez  !  You  made  this  Fran9ois  Leroy  Larchmont 
your  tool.  While  bribery  and  corruption  have  been 
going  on,  you  who  directed  it  were  not  even  in  Paris — • 
you  were  in  Panama  !  Ah,  you  are  safe  forever  !  But  I 
wish  a  little  statement  of  your  accounts !  You  know  I 
was  to  have  my  share  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  laughs  Fernando,  unlocking  the  safe  in  the 
private  office  and  selecting  his  mail,  which  has  been  kept 
for  him  in  an  inner  and  stronger  compartment.  "  Call 
to-morrow  and  get  it.  At  present,  I  am  going  to  my 
dinner  ! " 

He  looks  over  the  documents  waiting  for  him  carefully 
— among  them  are  two  long  envelopes,  very  carefully 
sealed. 

"  To  dinner  ?  "  echoes  Wernig,  gazing  curiously  at  the 
envelopes. 

"  Yes,  to  dinner,  of  course — or  supper — I  don't  care 
what  you  call  it.  I'm  hungry  after  my  railroad  journey 
from  Havre.  Will  you  join  me  in  a  petit  souper  at  the 
Cafi  de  Paris  ?  We  cannot  have  the  company  of  Made- 
moiselle Bebe.    You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  the  sad  news 


230  BARON    MONTEZ. 

that  she  died  in  Panama?"  rejoins  Montez,  producing  a 
handkerchief  and  wiping  his  eyes  as  if  affected.  Then 
he  opens  the  two  envelopes,  draws  out  his  black  pocket- 
book  and  deftly  places  their  contents  within  its  morocco 
binding  ;  next,  as  it  is  now  very  full,  secures  it  with  a 
rubber  guard. 

"  What  do  I  care  about  your  Mademoiselle  Bebes,  or 
your  suppers  at  the  Paris  ?  "  says  the  German. 

"  No  ? "  and  Montez  throws  the  residue  of  his  mail 
back  into  the  safe  and  locks  it ;  and  gazing  at  the  pocket- 
book,  a  curious  triumph  in  his  eye,  is  returning  it  to  his 
pocket.  He  says  affably,  "  If  you  are  not  going  to 
supper,  I  am." 

"  Not  yet,"  growls  the  German. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  If  you  get  away  from  me  now,  I  know  you  will  have 
accounts  to  show  me  that  will  prove  you  have  spent  all 
the  money  upon  the  journalists  and  the  deputies,"  answers 
Alsatius  Wernig.  Then  he  says  slowly  but  doggedly : 
"  My  share  I  have  now  !  " 

"Permit  me  to  go  to  supper,"  returns  Fernando. 
Then  facing  the  German,  he  says  :  "  I  have  no  accounts 
with  me  this  evening  !  " 

"  You  have  those  accounts  in  that  black  pocketbook  !  " 
cries  Wernig.  Louise  can  see  Montez'  delicate  fingers 
tremble  as  they  clutch  the  morocco  thing  he  holds  in  his 
hands.  "  That  contains  everything  I  want  !  "  snarls  the 
German,  his  eye  with  the  cast  growing  bright.  "  Let  me 
look  at  them  now  !  Give  me  a  statement  before  you  get 
away  to  prepare  another  !  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  and  Montez'  eyes  flash  fire.  "  You 
are  a  fool,  Herr  Wernig,  to  refuse  my  offer  to  supper  !  " 

*'Why?" 

*'  Because  " — here  Fernando's  hand  goes  slowly  behind 
him— "that  is  all  you  will  get  !  " 

But,  quick  as  a  flash,  Wernig  has  seized  a  ruler  from 
an  office  desk,  and  struck  the  hand  Montez  has  behind 
him,  and  his  pistol  drops  to  the  floor. 

Then  the  German,  who  is  stronger,  seizes  the  little  man 
by  the  throat,  and  clutches  for  the  pocketbook  ;  but 
Montez,  struggling,  holds  it  up,  away  from  the  German. 
So  the  two,  fighting,  one  like  a  bear,  and  the  other  like  a 
tiger  cat,  writhe  and  wrestle,  each  moment  coming  nearer 


BARON    MONTEZ.  23  I 

the  door  that  is  ajar — the  one  leading  to  the  room  where 
a  trembling  girl  stands  gazing  through  the  crevice,  with 
dilated  eyes  of  curious  resolution,  one  dainty  arm  up- 
raised, as  if  for  action. 

And  they  struggle  nearer,  Montez  holding  his  hand 
behind  him — the  right  one  that  grips  the  pocketbook  ; 
arjd  nearer  still,  until  he  is  forced  back,  and  his  right 
hand  is  pushed  through  the  opening  door  into  the  other 
room,  and  there  is  a  quick  rustle  of  feminine  draperies, 
and  a  quick  clutch  upon  his  hand,  and  he  shrieks  :  *'  Good 
God,  Wernig  !     It's  gone  !  " 

"  What's  gone  ?  "     A  ruse  !  " 

"  No  !  Let  me  go  !  Some  one  has  taken  it !  The  black 
pocketbook  that  holds  the  safety  of  us  both  !  " 

But  the  other  cries  out  :  "It  is  a  ruse  !  You  cannot 
fool  Alsatius  so  !  "  and  squeezes  Montez  all  the  closer. 

But  the  Baron  tears  himself  loose,  and  throws  open  the 
door,  and  cries  :  "  Where  is  it  ?  There  was  some  one 
here  !  "  And  the  two  cautiously  grope  about  the  floor 
and  corners  of  the  dark  room. 

Then  they  start  up  with  a  cry,  for  there  is  a  noise  of 
closing  doors  of  the  office,  and  they  rush  to  the  door  and 
shake  it,  and  kick  it,  and  throw  their  bodies  against  it ; 
but  it  has  been  locked  upon  them  from — the  outside. 

On  this  they  turn  and  gaze  upon  each  other — these  two 
conspirators  ;  and  both  grow  pale,  as  Montez  gasps  : 
**  My  God  !  If  the  secrets  of  that  book  come  out,  we 
will  be  torn  in  pieces  by  the  Paris  mob !  " 

"We?" 

"  Yes  !  It  is  the  record  of  the  bribed  Deputies  !  '* 
sighs  Montez.  Then  he  laughs  ironically  :  "  With  your 
name  as  well  as  mine  attached  to  it !  " 

''  Mein  Gott !'' 

And  the  two  men  imprisoned  glare  at  each  other,  and 
drops  of  perspiration  gather  on  their  brows — as  they 
whisper  with  trembling  lips  :  "  What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

But  a  moment  later  there  is  a  step  upon  the  stairs,  and 
the  door  is  unlocked  and  thrown  open,  and  Monsieur 
Gascoigne  enters  the  office,  saying :  "  Mademoiselle 
Minturn,  are  you  finished  ?  " 

To  him  Montez  screams  :  "  Mademoiselle  Minturn  ! 
Explain — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  girl  from  Panama  !  " 


^32  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  She  has  stolen  my  pocketbook  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  taken  record  of  your  ledgers,  also  !  "  gasps 
Gascoigne. 

"Fool!  Dolt!  Idiot!  Miserable!'"  shrieks  the 
Baron,  the  blood  of  Morgan's  desperado  coming  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  and  Wernig  fall  upon  the  astonished  clerk, 
and  beat  him,  and  strike  him  insensible. 

Then  Wernig  whispers  :  "  I  go  to  notify  the  police  of 
the  stolen  pocketbook  !  "  and  would  run  out. 

But  Montez  stays  him,  whispering  :  "  No,  no  !  "  as 
if  in  fright. 

*'  Why  not  ?     It  is  a  theft !  " 

"  But  if  France  knows  what  is  stolen  ?  Do  you  think 
the  populace  will  spare  us  foreigners  who  have  debauched 
their  Deputies?  If  the  tribunals  of  justice  get  that 
pocketbook  in  their  hands,  it  is  we  who  shall  suffer. 
No,  no  !  No  notice  !  I  have  another  way,"  mutters 
Montez. 

So  leaving  Wernig,  pale  and  unnerved,  he  calls  a  cab 
and  goes  fast  as  horse  can  carry  him,  and  waking  up  one 
of  the  great  Ministers  of  France,  tells  him  of  the  pocket- 
book,  and  to  his  affrighted  exclamations  whispers  :  "  If 
it  falls  into  wrong  hands,  your  head  also — high  as 
IT   IS  !  " 

And  so  it  might  be  ;  for  Louise  Minturn,  as  she  drives, 
not  to  her  dwelling  at  the  Rue  Lafitte,  for  she  guesses 
that  may  be  searched,  but  towards  the  hotel  on  the 
Boulevard  Malesherbes,  the  place  where  Harry  Larch- 
mont  will  be,  if  he  is  in  Paris,  carries,  clasped  to  her 
fair,  panting  breast,  not  only  the  secrets  of  Baron  Mon- 
tez, but  THE  HONOR  OF  FRANCE ! 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

BARON    montez'    WEDDING    DAY. 

Within  two  hours  a  few  of  the  detective  force  of  the 
Rue  de  Jerusalem  are  on  this  young  lady's  trail — only  a 
few  that  the  minister  thinks  he  may  trust. 

They  soon  find  out  where  Louise  has  been  living,  and 
at   two    A.    M.    the   household   of    Monsieur    Pichoir   is 


BARON    MONTEZ.  233 

aroused  with  inquiries  for  the  lady  who  has  been  stop- 
ping with  him. 

To  their  astonishment  he  says  :  "  She  has  not  yet 
returned.     She  is  still  at  the  office  of  Baron  Montez  !  " 

Then  the  town  is  searched,  and  railroad  stations 
guarded,  and  for  two  days  the  gentlemen  of  the  Rue  de 
Jerusalem  make  every  effort — but  Louise  Minturn  has 
disappeared  ! 

Word  of  their  failure  being  brought  to  Montez,  he  has 
exclaimed  :  "  These  policemen  are  idiots  !  " 

But  in  this  he  has  not  treated  the  officers  of  surete 
fairly.  For  the  minister  and  he  have  not  dared  to  tell 
the  truth  to  the  detectives.  They  have  described  Louise 
Minturn  as  an  adventuress,  not  a  clerk  ;  they  have  stated 
what  she  stole  was  a  pocketbook  containing  securities, 
stocks,  bonds,  etc. — not  what  it  really  did  hold. 

Here  Montez  stops  the  search,  for  an  idea  has  come  to 
him.  After  reading  the  letters  given  Miss  Minturn  by 
Aguilla,  he  has  chuckled  to  himself:  "It  is  only  the 
attempt  of  my  partner  to  protect  himself  ! "  and  felt  a 
great  relief. 

Though  he  has  had  the  passenger  lists  of  all  ships 
bound  for  the  Isthmus  searched,  and  finds  no  record  of 
her,  still  he  imagines  Louise  must  have  gone  by  some 
steam  line  from  England,  if  not  by  way  of  the  United 
States ;  or  perchance  by  some  tramp  ship  carrying  mer- 
chandise to  the  port  of  Colon,  for  a  great  many  vessels 
laden  with  supplies  and  plant  for  the  Panama  Canal  sail 
to  that  point. 

Then  Fernando  has  communed  with  himself  cheerily  : 
"  Does  my  charming  little  stenographer  think  she  will 
get  back  to  Panama  and  Aguilla  with  her  plunder  in 
her  hands?  My  smart  little  Yankee  girl  will  find  an 
Isthmus  jail  less  comfortable  than  the  Mazas." 

Therefore  he  cables  to  Colon,  to  an  agent  of  his  ;  and 
if  Miss  Minturn  arrives  there,  she  will  probably  find  it 
necessary  to  apply  to  the  American  consul  for  protec- 
tion, if  she  can  get  a  chance  to  have  word  with  him,  for 
they  have  a  way  of  putting  people  in  dungeons  there, 
and  holding  them,  without  notifying  authorities  or  troub- 
ling courts — when  the  power  requesting  it  is  potent. 

But  Fernando  is  relieved.  From  the  reports  of  the 
police,  he  is  satisfied  the  pocketbook  is  not  in  Paris,  the 


234  BARON    MONTEZ. 

place  where  he  fears  it  may  be  used  against  him.  The 
other  is  a  bagatelle. 

All  this  makes  him  anxious  to  press  his  suit  in  regard 
to  Miss  Severn.  He  has  her  guardian  under  his  thumb. 
The  marriage  must  take  place  immediately  !  Then  he 
will  be  free,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  to  leave 
France,  a  very  rich  man. 

So  Fernando  writes  to  Mr.  Fran9ois  Leroy  Larch- 
mont,  asking  him  to  call  at  his  apartments  on  the  Rue 
Auber,  to  arrange  for  the  immediate  marriage  of  his 
ward,  and  receives  in  reply  the  following  most  satis- 
factory note  : 

"  238^  Boulevard  Malesherbes, 
June  3,  1888. 
"My  dear  Baron  : 

"Your  letter  has  come  to  me.  I  am  so  glad  you  are  here.  My 
brother  Henri,  who  has  returned  from  Panama,  has  treated  me  most 
unkindly.  He  would,  if  he  dared,  prevent  Mademoiselle  Severn 
marrying  you.  But  of  course  that  is  impossible  !  I  am  her 
guardian  !  I  have  ordered  the  ceremony  to  taice  place  at  one  P.  M. 
to-morrow.  The  notary  will  be  here  for  signing  the  civil  con- 
tract. 

*'  The  trousseau  is  here — all  that  is  necessary  is  the  bridegroom  ! 

"I  did  not  like  you,  mio  Fernando,  a  few  months  ago.  You 
were  dictatorial  !  But  my  brother  is  more  so  ;  and  I  love  you — and 
hate  him  I  My  brother  is  very  foolish  since  he  has  come  back.  He 
thinks  he  can  destroy  you  by  a  black  pocketbook.  He  is  a  fool ! 
How  can  a  black  pocketbook  destroy  anybody  ?  Just  the  same,  I 
saw  a  girl  bring  it  to  him  two  nights  ago — I  went  down  and  saw  it 
from  the  hall — I  heard  him  say  to  her,  *  I  think  that  will  settle 
Montez  ! '  And  the  girl  said,  *  Destroy  the  bandit ! '  Neitlier  my 
brother  nor  the  girl  likes  you.     I  think  they  do  not  like  each  other. 

"  The  girl  stays  here.  Henri  has  taken  apartments  on  the  Boule- 
vard Haussmann. 

"Don't  forget — to-morrow  at  one,  punctually,  the  bridegroom 
must  be  here. 

*'  Yours  till  then, 

"  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont, 

*  ^Franco- A  merican. 

**  P.  S.  I  have  taken  a  beautiful  photograph  of  the  bride  when 
she  was  at  the  age  of  eleven.     I  call  it  V enfant  g&tte.** 


BARON    MONTEZ.  235 

As  he  reads,  Montez  gives  a  shudder.  The  black 
pocketbook  is  here  in  Paris,  in  the  hands  of  his  enemy  ! 

He  thinks  over  the  matter  deeply.  He  knows  he  can- 
not obtain  it  from  the  strong  hand  of  the  young  Ameri- 
can, without  recourse  to  the  processes  of  civil  law.  The 
examination  of  the  papers  contained  therein,  which  must 
take  place,  cannot  be  kept  entirely  secret — even  a  French 
cotirt  could  hardly  do  that  ;  and  if  it  once  became  known 
— one  little  bit  of  it — there  would  be  such  a  hue  and  cry 
from  the  Parisian  public,  that  everything  within  its 
morocco  case  must  be  given  to  the  citizens  of  Paris. 

Here  he  mutters  with  a  shudder  :  "  Diablo  !  the  Parisian 
mob !  They  w^ould  tear  me  and  Wernig  in  pieces ! 
Even  the  Government  could  not  save  us — if  they  could 
save  themselves  !  Besides,  the  Lottery  Bill  would  then 
never  go  through  the  Senate,  and  that  is  necessary  for 
my  full  success  !  " 

After  an  hour's  thought  he  murmurs  with  a  great  sigh  : 
**  I  must  do  it — there  is  nothing  else  ;  "  and  finally  brings 
his  teeth  together  wuth  a  snap,  and  says  :  '*It  is  he,  or  I! 
it  shall  be  he  !  " 

So,  putting  on  his  oldest  clothes,  and  making  himself 
as  seedy  as  possible,  Fernando  walks  out  of  his  rooms,  and 
strolls  to  a  far-off  quarter  of  Paris,  where  the  anarchists 
live — on  a  curious  errand. 

He  goes  by  himself,  taking  no  carriage  ;  and  there 
comes  to  a  Russian  nihilist,  one  who  had  helped. blow 
up  the  Czar  of  the  Russias.  This  personage  Montez  had 
once  done  a  favor.  The  man  is  a  mechanical  genius. 
He  had  made  an  invention  of  some  little  appliance  to  a 
dredger.  This  small  piece  of  machinery  Fernando  had 
induced  the  Canal  Company  to  buy. 

He  holds  a  short  conversation  with  the  mechanic,  and 
comes  away  quite  relieved.  "  It  is  arranged,"  he  thinks, 
"  quite  easily."  Then  he  mutters  :  "  Sapristi!  I  don't 
like  it ;  but  it  is  the  best  I  can  do  !  " 

However,  he  goes  quite  contentedly  to  a  jeweller's  that 
afternoon  and  orders  sent  to  his  coming  bride  a  magnifi- 
cent parure  of  diamonds. 

Next  morning  he  looks  over  the  papers  and  is  aston- 
ished. //  is  not  there  !  but  he  mutters  :  "  They  have 
not  discovered  yet.     These  reporters  are  lazy." 

But  there  is  no  more  triumphant  creature  in  gay  Paris 


236  BARON    MONTEZ. 

this  day  than  Baron  Montez  of  Panama,  as  he  drives  to 
his  nuptials,  his  horses  jingling  with  chains,  and  his  lack- 
eys laced  with  silver,  as  he  comes  along  the  Boulevard 
Malesherbes  about  one  p.m.,  and  gazes  at  the  Pare  Mon- 
ceau,  gay  with  the  bright  dresses  of  playing  children  and 
their  attendant  bonnes  and  nounous. 

Now,  all  that  Frangois  wrote  to  Baron  Montez  is  as 
true  as  the  letter  of  any  irregular  mind  can  be. 

Louise  Minturn  has  hardly  said  her  words  to  Harry 
Larchmont,  as  he  stands  at  the  door  of  his  brother's 
house  on  the  night  of  his  return  to  Paris,  before  she  finds 
both  herself  and  the  pocketbook  drawn  into  the  library, 
and  Harry  looking  at  her  with  eyes  of  joy. 

Her  trembling  lips,  throbbing  bosom,  and  agitated  eyes 
make  her  beautiful  as  an  excited  Venus — and  she  has 
got  a  new  gown— what  woman  in  Paris  would  not? 
Gazing  on  this  loveliness,  the  young  man  would  speak  to 
her  now — to  his  tender  nurse  of  Panama — but  other 
things  are  imperative  first. 

Louise  hastily  tells  him  her  story,  concluding,  **  When 
I  had  the  pocketbook,  I  knew  it  was  so  valuable  that 
great  efforts  would  be  made  to  recover  it." 

"  Undoubtedly  !  "  answers  Harry,  looking  hurriedly 
over  its  contents,  and  growing  more  and  more  excited  as 
he  examines. 

Then  he  gets  up,  seizes  both  the  girl's  hands  in  his, 
and  whispers  :  "God  bless  you  !  By  your  aid,  1  think  I 
will  win  !  " 

"  You  think  so  ? "  cries  Louise,  excitedly. 

"  Yes ;  I  think  this  pocketbook  will  settle  Montez," 
returns  Harry.  "  But  these  are  things  for  anxious  con- 
ference with  some  great  lawyer  !  Besides,  the  police  !  I 
must  make  some  arrangements  to  protect  both  you  and 
this  !     You  cannot  leave  here  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  By  this  time  your  description  is  all  over  Paris.  You 
must  stay  in  this  house  very  quietly  !  " 

"Here  !  "  exclaims  the  girl,  astonished. 

"Yes,  with  Miss  Severn.  She  will  make  you  perfectly 
at  home — you  will  be  treated  en  prmcesse  I  "  Then  he 
goes  on  eagerly,  for  he  sees  signs  of  refusal :  "  I  beg — 
I  entreat  you " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  237 

To  this  Louise  rises,  and  says  :   "  Impossible  !  " 

"  But  if  you  go  into  the  streets,  you  will  be  subject  to 
arrest.  This  is  stolen  property  ! "  He  holds  up  the 
pocketbook  of  Montez. 

"  Yes,  stolen  !  "  cries  the  girl  ;  "  but  stolen  from  a 
bandit  !  Don't  you  think  this  must  destroy  the  murderer 
of, my  relatives?"  for  she  has  now  some  inkling  of  what 
she  has  pilfered  means. 

Then  he  looks  tenderly  at  her,  and  says  :  "  So  much 
the  more  reason  for  my  keeping  you  from  danger  from 
this  man.  You  must  let  me  protect  you  !  I  will  intro- 
duce you  to  Miss  Severn.  Her  governess  is  with  her. 
I  shall  not  be  here  !  " 

"  You  are  going  away  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  What  you  have  brought  me  gives  me  business 
this  very  night.  After  that  I  shall  not  return  here,  but 
take  apartments.  You  must  let  me  guide  you  till  this 
is  over." 

But  the  girl  looks  at  him,  a  kind  of  despair  in  her 
eyes,  and  sighs  :  "  You  do  not  know  !  " 

'^  I  know  everything  that  is  necessary  !  I  took  care  of 
you  faithfully  and  truly  in  the  blizzard  ?  " 

"  Y-e-s." 

"  Don't  you  think  I  will  take  care  of  you  more  care- 
fully now  that  I  have  to  thank  you  for  this  chance 
against  the  bandit  who  has  robbed  my  brother — and 
you  ? " 

"  Very  well  ! "  falters  Louise,  his  mention  of  the 
blizzard  seeming  to  make  her  pliable. 

But  Harry,  about  to  ring  the  bell,  checks  himself,  and 
says  :  "  The  servants  are  not  up.  Besides,  it  is  better 
that  they  do  not  see  you  this  evening.  Please  remain 
here.     I  will  see  Miss  Jessie  !  " 

Then  he  goes  up-stairs,  leaving  Louise  tremendously 
agitated.  She  will  speak,  for  the  first  time,  to  this  girl 
who  has  the  heart  she  loves — this  one  whose  fortune  she 
is  saving  so  that  she  may  become  his  ! 

Then  Harry,  returning,  announces:  "  Miss  Severn  had 
not  gone  to  bed  yet.  In  a  minute  she  and  her  governess 
will  be  here." 

Almost  as  he  speaks,  that  young  lady  enters,  and  he 
introduces  her  :  "  Miss  Minturn,  this  is  my  ward.  Miss 
Severn. — Jessie,  this  young  lady  is   to  be  our  honored 


238  BARON    MONTEZ. 

guest.  She  nursed  me  through  the  fever  in  Panama  ; 
to  her  I  owe  my  life — and  much  else  !  " 

And  Jessie,  who  had  been  about  to  bow,  for  the  atti- 
tude of  Louise  is  haughty  as  that  of  Diana  of  the 
Greeks,  suddenly  runs  forward,  kisses  her,  and  says  : 
"  Thank  Heaven  !  you  saved  him  !  I  don't  know  what 
we  should  have  done  without  our  Harry !  "  and  so  puts 
anguish  into  the  heart  of  the  woman  standing  before  her, 
whose  face  grows  very  pale.  So  pale  that  Miss  Severn 
cries  out  :  "  You  are  sick — you  are  going  to  faint  !  " 

"  No — but  I — I  have  not  had  anything  to  eat — I — 
I — have  been  so  agitated  this  evening  !  " 

*'  Quick,  Jessie — the  pantry  i  "  cries  Larchmont. 
"  Don't  arouse  the  servants — run  about  yourself  !  " 

Then  she  and  the  governess  go  about  in  an  fidgety 
kind  of  manner,  and  do  not  find  much  in  the  larder, 
for  they  don't  know  where  to  look  for  it.  But  finally 
they  get  wine,  biscuits,  and  something  cold.  And  the 
wine  gives  strength  to  Louise,  who  has  gone  through 
a  great  deal  this  evening — more  than  any  of  them  think 
she  has. 

As  she  eats  and  drinks,  Larchmont  suddenly  says  : 
"  The  memoranda  of  my  brother's  accounts  from  Mon- 
tez'  ledger — I  believe  you  told  me  you  had  them  I  " 

*'  Yes — in  my  pocket  !  "  And  Louise  producing  them, 
he,  after  inspection,  suddenly  says  :  "  I  must  go  !  " 

So,  after  a  few  more  words,  impressing  secrecy  on  both 
the  governess  and  Miss  Jessie  as  to  their  sudden  guest, 
Larchmont  leaves  them,  and  departs  upon  business  that 
will  take  him  all  night. 

Before  morning  Harry  has  the  pocketbook  where  he 
considers  it  safe,  though  he  has  made  a  very  careful 
examination  of  the  matters  therein. 

He  has  not  slept  all  night,  making  these  arrangements. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  engages  apartments  for  him- 
self in  the  Boulevard  Haussniann^  and  thmks  :  "  That's 
pretty  well  for  a  man  only  three  weeks  over  the  fever. 
But  before  I  go  to  bed,  something  else  !  " 

He  hies  himself  to  a  celebrated  American  lawyer,  who 
is  at  present  on  his  summer  vacation  in  Paris,  and,  telling 
him  the  whole  matter,  gets  from  him  certain  opinions  of 
American  law,  and  certain  advice,  that  please  him  so 
much  that  he  acts  upon  them  at  once,  cables  to  America, 


BARON    M0NTF:Z.  239 

and  then  goes  to  bed  satisfied  that  he  has  done  a  good 
night's  work. 

Being  very  anxious  to  get  a  ghmpse  once  more  of  a 
face  that  he  has  become  accustomed  to  seeing  during 
his  sickness  in  Panama,  the  next  afternoon  finds  Harry 
at  his  brother's  hotel  again.  There  he  learns  that  the 
invalid  is  well  taken  care  of. 

'  But  while  there,  one  of  the  attendants  says  :  ''  Mr. 
Larchmont,  your  brother  has  demanded  writing  mate- 
rials." 

"Very  well,"  answers  Harry,  "let  him  have  them.  I 
don't  think  they  will  do  him  any  harm.  Perhaps  they  will 
do  him  good  ! "  and  thinks  nothing  more  about  the  matter. 

Then  the  physician  comes  and  gives  his  advice  ;  which 
is,  to  humor  the  patient.  "  Let  him  do  what  he  likes  !  " 
This  Harry  is  very  much  pleased  to  do,  thinking  it  will 
keep  Frank's  mind  off  subjects  that  agitate  him. 

Then  he  asks  for  Miss  Minturn,  but  Jessie  says  she  is 
not  well  enough  to  see  him — "  She  is  worn  out  !  " 

He  sends  a  message  to  her,  but  the  answer  comes 
back  :  Will  Mr.  Larchmont  please  excuse  her — unless  it 
is  imperative  !  For  the  girl  has  read  an  article  in  one 
of  the  Parisian  papers,  which  briefly  states  that  last 
evening  Baron  Montez  was  robbed  by  an  adventuress  ! 
And  this  makes  her  ashamed. 

She  has  thought  :  "  For  his  sake  I  endure  calumny — 
and  what  does  he  give  me  in  return — misery  !  " 

Perchance,  were  it  not  for  this  unfortunate  newspaper 
article,  she  would  consent  to  see  the  man  hungering  for 
sight  of  her  fair  face,  and  these  days  might  be  happy 
ones  to  Louise  Minturn  instead  of  miserable  ones. 

As  it  is,  were  it  not  for  absolute  fear  of  arr-est  by  the 
police,  she  would  fly  from  him,  and  from  his  house,  and 
from  the  girl  she  thinks  his  betrothed. 

So  Larchmont  is  compelled  to  content  himself  with 
messages  from  her,  for  he  is  tremendously  busy,  and 
under  his  lawyer's  direction  is  cabling  to  and  receiving 
messages  from  America.  But  he  consoles  himself  with 
the  sage  thought :  "  Wait  I  " 

This  lasts  for  two  days,  when  coming  to  his  room  in 
the  Boulevard  Hauss?nann^  late  at  night,  after  a  long 
interview  with  his  New  York  lawyer,  he  remarks  :  "  Now 
I'm  ready  for  Senor  Montez  !  " 


240  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Then,  careless  of  everything  but  fatigue,  he  springs 
into  bed  to  go  to  sleep  and  awake  the  next  morning  with 
a  very  peculiar  headache.  He  looks  astonished  and  rubs 
his  eyes,  half  in  amazement,  half  in  agony,  for  the  pain 
is  excruciating. 

Then  he  suddenly  exclaims  :  "  The  headache  of  Cule- 
bra  ! — that  came  from — what  can  have  given  it  to  me  in 
Paris?     There's  no " 

His  valet  entering  about  this  time — for  Harry  has 
fallen  into  his  old  style  of  luxurious  living — he  says  to 
him  :  "Amadie — since  I  left  yesterday  morning,  what 
have  you  done  to  my  rooms  ? " 

"  Nothing  !  I'm  going  to  leave  them — I  don't  think 
they  are  healthy." 

"Humph  ! — you  remained  in  all  last  night?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  was  too  unwell — I  had  a  fearful  head- 
ache !  " 

"Ah  ! — when  did  it  come  on?" 

"  About  ten  o'clock  last  evening.  I  was  too  sick  to 
get  up  to  assist  you,  though  I  wished  to,  as  there  is  a 
package — a  present,  I  think  it  is — that  came  for  you 
about  five  yesterday." 

"  How  was  it  sent  ?  " 

"  It  was  left  with  the  concierge — I  do  not  know  who 
brought  it." 

"  Ah,  ha  !  it  came  at  five  and  your  headache  at  ten. 
Describe  your  pain  to  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaims  Amadie — "  how  can  I  ?  My  head 
was  in  four  pieces — each  at  the  other  side  of  the  room." 

"The  same! — Let's  look  at  my  present!'''  remarks 
Larchmont,  grimly.  And  removing  its  paper  covers,  a 
beautiful  enamelled  box  of  peculiar  design  is  seen  ;  but 
no  card  is  with  it. 

Harry  looks  at  this  curiously  a  moment,  then  thinks 
deeply,  and  makes  an  investigation. 

And  this  being  over,  Harry  Larchmont,  looking  very 
serious  and  much  impressed,  goes  off  to  the  hotel  on  the 
Boulevard  Alalesherbes,  where  excitement  destroys  his 
headache  ;  for  he  learns  that  his  brother,  Mr.  Francois 
Leroy  Larchmont,  has  just  announced  that  it  is  the 
wedding-day  of  Miss  Jessie  Severn  and  Baron  Montez 
of  Panama. 

The  vagaries  of   this   gentleman,  his  attendants  and 


BARON    MONTEZ.  24I 

servants  have  been  instructed  to  obey,  as  far  as  is  con- 
sistent with  his  and  their  safety.  So  they  have  followed 
his  directions.  And  his  orders  have  been  that  Jessie's 
tj'ousseau  and  her  wedding  presents  — those  that  he  has 
made  her,  and  a  very  handsome  one  that  has  just  come 
in  from  Baron  Montez — be  arranged  in  the  parlor  ;  he 
has  also  announced  that  his  ward  is  to  be  wedded  this 
day  by  civil  contract. 

Francois  is  just  about  to  send  for  the  necessary  notary, 
but  his  brother,  who  comes  hurriedly  in,  says  :  ''  There  is 
one  in  the  house  now,  preparing  other  documents." 

"  Very  well,"  remarks  Francois,  "  he'll  do  !  Baron 
Montez,  the  bridegroom,  will  come  at  one  p.m.  Let  the 
bride  be  ready  !  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  "  asks  Harry,  looking 
astounded. 

"Why,  I  wrote  to  Montez  that  the  ceremony  would 
occur  at  that  time." 

"  The  dickens  you  did  !  "  murmurs  his  brother,  and 
goes  to  privately  questioning  the  sick  man's  attendants. 

They  tell  him  that  a  letter  was  received,  and  answered, 
by  the  invalid.  They  did  not  suppose  it  would  do  any 
harm,  as  Monsieur  Larchmont  had  told  them  to  let  Mon- 
Jiieur  Francois  do  all  the  writing  he  might  wish. 

*'  Quite  right !  "  remarks  Larchmont,  and  he  goes  to 
his  brother  most  cheerily,  and  says  :  "  Very  well  !  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  see  your  friend.  Baron  Montez.  If 
he  had  not  called  to-day,  I  was  about  to  see  him  myself  !  " 

Then  suddenly  a  peculiar  look  comes  in  his  face,  and 
he  chuckles  to  himself,  thinking  :  "  Egad  I  I  have  what 
will  fetch  him,  in  more  ways  than  one — this  bridegroom  ! 
I'll  weaken  his  nerves  first.  It  takes  spinal  vibrations 
to  make  gentlemen  of  his  kidney  sign  away  what  I'll 
make  him  disgorge  !  " 

Calling  Miss  Severn  to  him,  he  says  :  "  Jessie,  I  must 
ask  you  to  remain  up-stairs  this  afternoon.  I  expect  a 
visitor — one  I  do  not  care  for  you  to  see." 

"  Who's  that  ?  " 

*'  Baron  Montez  !  " 

"Oh,  I'm  delighted  to  keep  out  of  his  way.  Ugly 
faces  are  not  pleasant  to  me  !  " 

"  Thank  you  !  "  whispers  Larchmont ;  next  asks  eager- 
ly, "  Where  is  Louise — Miss  Minturn  ?  " 
16 


242  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  Oh,  she's  in  her  room,  I  think.  I  have  not  seen  much 
of  her.  She  seems  so  quiet — and  reserved — I  think  she's 
sad  !  " 

"Sad  ?  "  ejaculates  Harry. 

"  Yes,  sad  !  I  don't  think  she  likes  me,  either." 

"What  have  you  done  to  her  ?  " 

*'  I  ?  "  gasps  Jessie.  "  N-noihing  !  "  for  Mr.  Larch- 
mont's  tone  is  awe  inspiring. 

"Nothing?" 

"  Nothing  except  to  give  her  every  dainty  I  could 
think  of  to  eat,  and  ask  her  to  tell  me  all  about  your 
doings  in  Panama." 

"  Oh  !  Ah  !  Very  well  !  Run  up-stairs — that's  a  good 
little  girl,"  mutters  Harry,  remembering  his  friend's  words 
in  that  city,  and  a  suspicion  that  is  rather  pleasing  to  him 
than  otherwise  coming  to  his  mind. 

So,  coming  to  Miss  Minturn's  door,  he  knocks  and 
says  :  "  Can  I  see  you  for  a  minute  ?     It  is  important  !  " 

"  Certainly  !  "  comes  a  voice  from  within — a  voice  that 
astounds  him,  it  is  so  unhappy. 

She  comes  out ;  he  looks  in  her  face  and  falters : 
"  Good  heavens  !  You  have  been  miserable  here  !  You 
have  not  mingled  with  the  family  to  any  extent  !" 

"How  could  I?"  answers  Louise,  attempting  a /;/<?«^, 
"without  any  clothes  ?      I  have  only  this  dress  !  " 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon  !  Forgive  me  !  I  am  a  man  ! 
I  forgot  your  trunks  were  at  Pichoir's.  You  have  not 
dared  to  send  for  them  !  " 

"  Of  course  not,  without  your  directions !  "  says  the 
young  lady. 

He  stands  meditating  a  second,  then  replies  :  "You'll 
have  to  wait  till  this  afternoon." 

"  Why  till  then  ?  " 

"  Then  I  shall  have  annihilated  your  enemy  and  my 
own — Baron   Montez  !  " 

"  This  afternoon  !  " 

"  Yes — in  the  parlor  down-stairs.  After  that  I  think  I 
can  promise  you  toilettes  ad  libitum — Worth,  Pingat,  and 
Felix  !  " 

"  Impossible  !  Remember  I  am  a  poor  girl  !  You  said 
you  wished  to  see  me  on  a  matter  of  importance  !  "  an- 
swers Louise,  reproach  in  her  eyes,  for  she  likes  not  his 
tones,  which  are  nervous,  perhaps  bantering. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  243 

"  Yes,  of  great  importance  !  "  he  says,  growing  very- 
earnest,  for  the  girl's  manner  makes  him  think  she  is 
suffering.  "  This  afternoon  I  hope  to  have  two  inter- 
views— one  with  Baron  Montez  ;  it  will  probably  deeply 
affect  you.  Will  you  put  your  interests  into  my  hands  ? " 
As  he  says  this  he  looks  at  her  with  all  his  eyes. 

"  Y-e-s." 
'** Understand   me,"  he  goes  on,  "this  interview  may 
affect  you — financially." 

"  Oh,  what  have  I  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  Regain 
your  brother's  and  your  ward's  fortune  from  him.  That 
is  all.  Don't  think  of  me  ;  let  me  go  away  as  soon  as  I 
can  !  " 

"  Your  interest  first  of  all  !  "  returns  Harry,  deter- 
minedly.    ''Then  for  the  other  interview  !  " 

"What  one  is  that?" 

"  The  one  with  you  !  "  And  his  heart  is  very  tender 
as  he  clasps  her  pretty  fingers  and  whispers  :  "  You — my 
interview  with  you  !  It  is  the  most  important  ! "  and 
perhaps  would  say  more,  but  there  is  a  ring  at  the  door- 
bell. So  he  mutters  :  "  Afterwards  !  I  must  go  now," 
wrings  her  hand,  and  departs,  leaving  her  a  mixture  of 
blushes  and  anxiety. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Harry  has  every  prep- 
aration made — a  notary  with  papers  drawn  up — an 
attache  oi  the  Ahierican  Consulate  to  make  acknowledg- 
ments good  for  the  United  States. 

So  he,  in  perfect  afternoon  costume,  a  big  white 
chrysanthemum  in  his  buttonhole,  strolls  into  the  great 
parlor  of  the  house,  and  looking  around  grins — for  the 
room  is  en  fete,  the  wedding  presents  are  arranged  upon 
a  table,  one  great  parure  of  diamonds  from  the  bride- 
groom quite  i^rominent  ;  besides,  a  portion  of  the  bride's 
trousseau  is  displayed,  which  is  decidedly  out  of  form,  but 
is  the  idea  of  the  erratic  Francois. 

Then  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont  comes  in  crying, 
"  Flowers  for  the  bride  !  "  and  tosses  rare  exotics  all 
over  the  table  in  his  old  artistic  style — and  begins  sing- 
ing a  little  French  wedding  song  and  dancing  di pas  seul. 

But  Harry  quietly  gets  him  from  the  room,  saying  : 
"  You  must  not  make  your  appearance  until  you  bring 
down  the  bride  !  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  and  Frangois  returns  to  his  room, 


244  BARON    MONTEZ, 

where  his  brother  tells  his  two  attendants  to  keep 
him. 

Then,  looking  everything  over,  Harry  adds  to  the 
presents  his  own. 

He  places  upon  the  table,  next  to  the  magnificent  parure 
of  diamonds  of  Baron  Montez,  a  box  of  enamel  of  curi- 
ous design,  a  little  key  hanging  from  its  ornamental  lock, 
and  chuckles,  "  Now  let  the  bridegroom  come  !  " 

But  sitting  down  to  wait,  this  big  ex-athlete,  who 
has  stood  unmoved  facing  a  foot-ball  wedge  that  is  going 
to  throw  upon  him  two  thousand  pounds  of  undergradu- 
ate college  veal,  and  smite  him  to  the  earth,  and  trample 
upon  him  with  twenty-two  murderous  foot-ball  shoes, 
grows  nervous  —  the  stake  he  will  play  for  to-day  is  so 
large — the  goal  seems  so  dim  and  distant. 

Next,  he  suddenly  jumps  up  and  rather  curiously  locks 
all  the  windows  of  the  room,  which  seems  a  needless 
precaution  against  prying  eyes,  as  the  curtains  have  been 
already  drawn  and  blinds  closed  by  Mr.  Francois'  order, 
he  having  had  the  gas  lighted  to  give  effect  to  the  bride's 
toilette. 

A  moment  after  there  is  the  rattle  of  a  carriage  drawing 
up  outside,  and,  peeping  from  the  window,  Harry  Larch- 
mont  mutters  :  ''Jingo  !  What  a  carriage  !  What  liver- 
ies !  " 

For  Fernando's  equipage  is  of  South  American  and 
barbaric  splendor  this  day. 

A  short  half  minute,  and  Robert  announces  :  "  Baron 
Montez  !  "  And  the  door  being  thrown  open,  in  comes 
the  bridegroom,  a  smile  of  expectancy  upon  his  olive 
face,  and  his  white  teeth  a  little  whiter  than  ever  ;  his 
hair  done  up  very  barbarously,  and  a  white  chrysanthe- 
mum in  his  buttonhole. 

As  he  enters,  he  gives  a  little  gasp  of  joy.  The  room 
is  prepared  ;  the  wedding  is  beyond  peradventure. 
Then  a  look  of  expectancy  comes  into  his  subtle  eyes  as 
he  rolls  them  about,  thinking  to  see  the  blonde  hair,  blue 
eyes,  and  graceful  figure  of  Miss  Jessie,  his  bride.  But 
just  here  the  Baron  gives  a  start.  His  eye  catches 
Harry  Larchmont. 

"  You — here  ?  "  he  falters,  "  I — "  he  stops  strangely 
agitated. 

But  Larchmont,  springing  up,  breaks  in  rather  easily  : 


BARON    MONTEZ.  245 

"  Baron — your  hand  !  This  affair  has  gone  so  far,  that, 
though  I  opposed  it,  I  presume  it  must  continue  now. 
My  brother  will  be  down  shortly.     The  bride " 

''  Ah,  yes — of  course,  brides  are  always  late.  It  is  their 
little  way  ! ''  interjects  Fernando,  who  has  glanced  about, 
and  is  reassured. 

The  room  is  en  fete,  the  wedding  presents  on  exhibi- 
•fton,  and  through  the  open  door  leading  to  the  library 
he  can  see  a  notary,  and  another  official  gentleman,  with 
legal  documents  upon  a  table  before  them,  that  are 
doubtless  wedding  contracts  ready  for  signature  ; 
though  most  of  this  comes  to  him  in  a  kind  of  a  daze,  he 
is  so  astonished  at  seeing  Harry  Larchmont. 

His  view  of  the  case  is  surely  correct.  In  fact,  Larch- 
mont proves  it  to  him,  for  he  continues  chattily  :  "  The 
notary  in  the  next  room  is  preparing  the  nuptial  docu- 
ments." ^  Ringing  the  bell,  he  says  to  Robert  :  ''  Find  out 
when  Monsieur  Lebeau  will  have  the  contracts  ready." 

During  the  servant's  absence,  Larchmont  casually  re- 
marks :  "What  exquisite  jewels  you  sent  the  bride.  Mon- 
sieur le  Baron  !  Jessie  was  overcome  at  the  sight  of 
them !  " 

But  the  Baron  seems  overcome  also  at  the  sight  of 
them. 

As  he  has  followed  Larchmont's  careless  wave  of  the 
hand,  his  eye  has  lighted  on  the  beautiful  enamelled 
casket  with  its  curious  ornaments,  standing  beside  his 
sparkling  gift.  A  little  hectic  flush  flies  into  each  cheek, 
making  them  look  like  chocolate  ice-cream  with  spots  of 
strawberry — that  melt  away,  to  leave  deadly,  ashy  pallor 
such  as  only  comes  to  those  who  have  a  little  of  the  blood 
of  Africa  in  their  veins. 

Then  Robert,  returning,  announces,  "  The  notary  will 
be  ready  in  five  minutes." 

"  All  right  !  "  replies  Harry,  cheerily. 

But  Montez  does  not  reply  to  this.  He  seems  to  be 
interested  in  the  casket  beside  the  jewel-case.  His  eyes 
never  leave  it.  It  appears  to  fascinate  him,  as  a  snake 
does  its  prey.  He  gets  one  awful,  close  look  at  it,  and 
for  a  moment  it  seems  to  paralyze  him.  He  appears 
amazed. 

"  Then  before  the  notary — let's  get  to  the  bride's  set- 
tlement," remarks  Larchmont.     "  As  my  brother  is  not 


246  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Strong,  I  must  act  for  him,  and  account  for  Miss  Severn's 
dot  to  you,  as  her  husband,  under  the  contract.  The 
securities,  receipts,  and  deeds  belonging  to  Miss  Severn 
are,  my  brother  has  informed  me,  in  this  box.''  He 
lays  his  hand  upon  the  ornamental  casket  that  has  brought 
coma  upon  Fernando. 

At  this,  the  Baron,  looking  at  him,  gives  a  little  hoarse 
rattle  with  his  tongue,  as  if  it  were  parched.  The  per- 
spiration of  fear  is  on  the  palms  of  his  hands,  though  his 
fingers  move  nervously.  He  contrives  to  mutter  :  "  The 
bride— she  is  coming  !  "  and  totters  towards  the  door. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  impatient  bridegroom  !  "  laughs  Harry. 
"  But  your  anxiety  duped  you.  The  bride  is  not  here 
yet,  but  her  fortune  is." 

But  Montez  cares  no  more  for  brides — he  only  cares 

TO  get  our   OF  THIS  ROOM  ALIVE. 

Then  Larchmont,  placing  the  box  on  a  little  table  be- 
side him,  continues  quite  calmly  :  "  We  will  examine  the 
securities  together.  Take  a  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the 
table." 

But  Fernando,  who  seems  to  have  shrivelled  up,  his 
eyes  never  leaving  the  casket,  sinks  down  on  a  sofa 
across  the  room  from  Larchmont.  Looking  at  his  agony 
Harry  thinks  he  has  won. 

But  at  that  moment  there  is  a  sound  of  light  footsteps 
and  rustle  of  feminine  skirts  on  the  staircase  in  the  hall. 
Montez  staggering  up  cries  frantically,  "  The  bride  !  " 
,  For  one  second   Harry  grows  pale  himself,  thinking : 
"  Hang  Jessie  !     She  may  spoil  my  coupy 

But  he  strides  over  to  Fernando,  laughing :  "  Not  so 
fast,  Romeo  !  Business  first !  We  must  examine  these 
securities  while  we  have  time !  " 

"  No  business  for  me  !  "  gasps  Montez,  "  when  I  have 
— ah  !— rapture  in  my  heart  !  "  Then  he  gives  a  sudden 
affrighted  shrieking,  "  A-a-ah  !  "  for  Harry  is  holding 
the  box  right  up  to  his  face,  and  is  putting  the  key  in 
the  lock. 

"  No,  no  !  Not  now  !  "  he  screams.  Next  moans,  "  I 
am  not  feeling  well  !  "  His  hand  goes  up  in  a  spasm, 
for  Harry  is  turning  the  key.  Then  there  is  a  click  of 
shooting  bolt. 

"  It's  unlocked !  Now  for  Jessie's  securities  !  "  con- 
tinues Harry,  gazing  at  the  Baron.     The  blue  eyes  are 


BARON    MONTEZ.  247 

very  calm,  for  there  is  Saxon  blood  behind  them.  The 
dark  eyes,  very  drooping  and  timorous,  for  there  is  all 
nations'  blood  behind  them,  and  the  drop  of  the  timid 
Cingalese  is  on  top,  and  the  drop  of  Morgan's  buc- 
caneer is  at  the  bottom. 

Harry  Larchmont.is  opening  the  case  ! 

There  is  a  howl  of  terror  !  That  makes  the  notary 
•and  the  official  in  the  next  room  spring  up. 

Then  Montez,  clutching  both  Larchmont's  arms,  cries 
hoarsely  :  "  For  your  life,  don't  open  it !  By  the  Virgin  ! 
don't  open  it  I  You  will  blow  me  to  pieces  !  It  is  an 
infernal  machine  that  will  blow  ?ne  up  !  It  is  dyna- 
mite !     IT    IS    DEATH  !  " 

"  It  is  what  you  sent  me,  you  infernal  assassin  !  " 
cries  Harry  Larchmont,  with  awful  mien  and  awful 
voice. 

And  Montez  would  run  away,  but  Harry  has  him  in  a 
grip  of  steel.  And  the  notary  and  the  official  gentleman 
in  the  other  room  would  run  away  also,  for  there  is  a 
sound  of  commotion  from  them,  and  cries  of  astonished 
terror  ;  and  Larchmont  knows  he  has  all  the  witnesses 
he  wants.  So  he  goes  on  jeeringly  :  "  Ah  !  ha  !  con- 
demned l?y  your  own  lips  !  " 

And  the  other  gasps  :  "  Be  careful  how  you  handle 
it !  "  for  Harry's  hands  are  on  the  box  again. 

''  Pshaw  !  I  don't  fear  it !  "  And  with  a  snap  Larch- 
mont throws  open  the  lid,  as  Montez,  with  a  shriek  of 
terror,  grovels  upon  the  floor,  and  the  clerk  and  the 
notary  yell  with  fright. 

"  Pooh  !  Baron  !  "  jeers  Harry.  "  This  does  not  con- 
tain nitro-glycerine  now  !  Your  gift  arrived  last  night. 
Fortunately  I  did  not  open  it.  I  awoke  this  morning 
with  an  awful  headache — one  I  recognized  — such  as  no 
man  can  have  once,  and  not  remember — the  peculiar 
headache  from  the  fumes  of  nitro-glycerine.  With  due 
precautions  I  opened  the  box,  and  I  replaced  what  you 
had  sent  me  by  this  !  "  He  produces  several  papers. 
"  These  documents  represent  Miss  Severn's  estate." 

Then  he  steps  quietly  to  the  door  and  says  to  the  notary  : 
*'  You  will  remember  this  gentleman's  confession.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  shall  have  some  documents  for  you  to 
acknowledge  !  " 

Coming  back  from  this,  he  picks  the  Baron  up,  who 


248  BARON    MONTEZ. 

is  Still  gasping,  and  palpitating,  and  trembling,  and  puts 
him  into  a  chair,  with  his  strong  hands.  Then  laugh- 
ingly fans  Fernando  Gomez  Montez  back  to  life,  for 
fright  has  nearly  killed  him,  and  Harry  does  not  want 
him  to  die  until  he  has  signed  some  papers. 

So,  after  a  little,  the  Baron  recovers  somewhat,  and 
grows  very  angry,  and  swears  and  curses,  though  his 
hands  still  shake  and  quiver. 

But  here  Larchmont  astounds  Montez,  for  he  suddenly 
asks  this  curious  question  :  *'  My  dear  Baron,  have  you 
ever  played  the  game  of  foot- ball  ?  " 

"No  !  Sacre !  Diablo!  What  do  I  care  for  your 
beastly,  idiotic  game  ?  "  snarls  the  Baron. 

"  Well,  in  the  game  of  foot-ball  there  is  one  point — one 
great  point,"  remarks  Larchmont,  easily,  "that  is  to  .get 
the  ball.  The  side  that  has  the  ball  generally  kicks  the 
goal.  Now,  Baron,  I  am  ready  to  play  with  you,  be- 
cause I  have  got  the  ball — I  have  got  your  pocketbook  ! 
I  know  what  it  contains,  and  though  there  are  no  bank- 
bills  nor  certificates  of  deposit  in  it,  it  is  worth  to  you 
your  whole  fortune  !  " 

"  My  whole  fortune  !  Absurd  !  Bah  !  It  is  a  baga- 
telle !  You  frighten  me,  and  you  think  that  makes  me 
a  fool !  " 

"  The  pocketbook  will  kill  you  as  surely  as  dyna- 
mite," whispers  Larchmont,  "  if  I  make  this  thing  public 
in  the  present  state  of  feeling  in  Paris  !  I  blow  you  up 
and  the  Panama  Canal  together  !  You  and  your  friend 
Herr  Wernig  will  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  mob  !  Let  it 
but  be  known  that  you  bribed  the  Deputies,  the  Minister 
of " 

Here  Montez  cries  :  "  My  God  !  no,  no  !  never  !  " 

"Then,"  remarks  Larchmont,  "supposing  I  let  you  go 
— supposing  I  give  you  your  pocketbook — what  will  you 
give  me  of  the  plunder  of  which  you  have  robbed  my 
brother,  and  the  girl  you  said  you  loved — the  girl  whom 
you  expected  to  call  your  bride  to-day,  but  robbed 
also? " 

"A  million  francs  !  " 

"  Pooh  !  when  I  have  all  your  American  securities  ? " 

"  Impossible  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  do  you 
know  about  my  American  securities  ?  " 

"I   know   that   you   did   have   three   million   dollars' 


BARON    MONTEZ.  249 

worth  of  the  best  in  the  world,  in  the  hands  of  your  New 
York  bankers." 

"  Did  have  ?  " 

"  Yes,  DID  have,  for  I  have  attached  them  all  now  in 
New  York." 

"  It  is  a  lie  !  " 

"If  you  had  gone  to  your  office  this  morning,  Mr. 
Bridegroom,  instead  of  coming  here,  you  would  have 
found  a  cable  from  your  New  York  bankers  to  that  effect. 
You  are  an  alien — it  was  easy  !  " 

"  It  is  a  lie  !  " 

"  Now,  look  here,  Baron  !  "  says  Larchmont.  "  I've 
taken  dynamite  from  you  and  two  lies.  The  next  time 
you  say  that  to  me  I'll  put  your  little  round  head  through 
the  back  of  your  chair  !  "  Then  he  goes  on  again  :  "  I 
have  proofs — written  evidence  from  your  books — that 
you  never  made  the  investments  in  the  Panama  Canal 
stocks  you  reported  to  my  brother.  You  simply  said 
you  made  them.  You  simply  charged  them  to  him  on 
your  ledger,  but  your  stock  book  shows  no  such  pur- 
chases, at  that  time,  nor  at  any  other  time.  You  put  my 
brother's  and  his  ward's  money  into  your  own  pocket, 
but  never  bought  the  shares.  I  know  well  enough,  if 
I  bring  suit  in  America,  where  I  will  bring  it,  having 
nailed  your  securities  there,  for  I  have  had  advice  on 
this  point,  that  American  courts  will  follow  a  precedent 
they  have  already  established,  and  decide  in  favor  of  my 
brother." 

"  But  this  is  even  more  than  I  have  taken  from  him 
and  your  ward,"  falters  Montez. 

"  There  is  a  young  lady  up-stairs  you  have  robbed." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Miss  Minturn." 

"  What — my  stenographer  ?  She  shall  have  her  salary," 
says  Fernando,  grimly. 

"  She  wants  more  I  She  is  the  sole  heir  of  George 
Merritt  Ripley,  and  Alice  his  wife,  whom  you  murdered 
on  the  Isthmus,  and  robbed  of  their  gold — some  sixty 
thousand  dollars  !  " 

"  You  can't  prove  it !  " 

"  Whether  I  prove  it  or  not,  I'm  going  to  collect  it. 
I  have  notes  and  an  assignment  covering  the  value  of  all 
your  New  York  securities,  made  out  to  me,  in  that  room. 


250  BARON    MONTEZ, 

Will  you  sign  them,  or  shall  the  contents  of  your  pocket- 
book  be  given  to  the  papers  to-night  ?  " 

*'  There  is  no  Parisian  paper  that  would  dare  to  pub- 
lish them." 

"There  is  one  !  " 

*'  Imbecile  !     You  rave  !     What  one  ?  " 

"  The  Parisian  edition  of  the  New  York  Herald!  " 

"Yes,"  mutters  Montez,  "you're  right  !  That  terrible 
American  paper  would  publish  any  news  ! " 

"  Now  will  you  sign,  or  not  ? " 

"  No  !  "  cries  Montez,  desperately,  and  rises  to  go. 

"Ah,  you  hope  to  slip  away  from  town  before  the 
Herald  can  give  them  the  news — but  you  don't  go  !  " 

"  What  will  stop  me  ?  " 

"  The  contents  of  this  box  you  sent  me  !  I've  got  wit- 
nesses in  there  of  your  own  confession  !  I'll  have  you 
under  lock  and  key  in  half  an  hour  !  You  can't  get  out 
on  bail  even,  before  I'll  spread  over  town  the  knowledge 
of  the  contents  of  that  pocketbook.  Then  you  know 
you  will  never  leave  Paris  alive  !" 

"  No  !  "  cries  Fernando,  desperately,  for  he  knows  he 
could  not  exist  two  hours  before  the  Parisian  mob,  know- 
ing its  contents,  would  rise  up  against  him.     "I'll  sign!  " 

Then  he  puts  his  hand  to  his  brow,  and  mutters  : 
"  Three  million  piastres  !     Give  me  the  pocketbook  !  " 

"  When  you  have  signed  !  Not  before  !  I  also  want 
an  assignment  of  your  contract  with  the  young  American 
■lady.  Miss  Minturn." 

"  Oh — certainly  !  You  ask  a  small  thing  after  very 
great  ones." 

So  Harry  leads  him  into  the  room,  where  there  is  an 
affrighted  notary  and  an  astonished  attach^  of  the  Ameri- 
can consulate.  Here  Baron  Montez,  the  agony  of  resti- 
tution being  on  him,  does  the  hardest  five  minutes' 
work  of  his  life — he  signs  over,  in  proper  legal  form,  all 
his  American  securities  to  Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont,  in 
trust  for  various  other  parties.  These  acknowledgments 
are  certified  to  by  the  notary,  and  made  good  in  the 
United  States  by  the  seal  of  the  American  consulate  in 
Paris. 

Then  Montez  whispers  :  "  The  pocketbook  ?  Quick  !  " 

"You  did  not  think  I  had  it  upon  me  with  such  gentle- 
men as  you  about  !  "  laughs  Larchmont,  who  has  grown 


BARON    MONTEZ.  25  1 

faint  himself  now  that  he  has  won.  "  I'll  give  you  an 
order  on  the  American  Legation  for  it — good  after  three 
o'clock  to-morrow.  By  that  time  the  American  stocks 
are  in  my  hands,  or  there  are  no  ocean  cables." 

This  being  done,  Montez  turns  to  go.  Larchmont  fol- 
lows him  to  the  hall,  for  he  thinks  it  just  as  well  to 
s^e  this  gentleman  outside  his  portals,  as  he  has  heard 
female  voices  up-stairs,  and  fears  descent  from  inquisitive 
young  ladies. 

At  the  door,  Montez  turns  and  hisses  :  "  It  was  for  this 
you  brought  me  here — so  that  you  might  play  with  me 
and  conquer  me  !  " 

''Oh,"  replies  Harry,  very  modestly,  though  the 
triumph  of  victory  is  on  his  face,  "  I  did  not  conquer  you 
— it  was  a  young  lady — Miss  Minturn  !  " 

''Ah,  that  damned  stenographer!'^  shrieks  Montez. 
"  She  who  plotted  with  you,  and  entered  my  employ  to  de- 
stroy me  !    She — your  accomplice — your  tool — your " 

"  I'll  trouble  you  not  to  say  anything  about  her  ! " 
mutters  Harry,  his  face  growing  very  stern.  "  Please  go 
away  !  "     He  has  opened  the  door. 

But  up-stairs  there  is  a  maniac  chuckle:  "Lo,  the 
bridegroom  goeth — Let  me  at  him  !  I'm  going  to  throw 
an  orange  peel  at  Baron  Montez  of  Panama  !  " 

"What  is  that  ?  "  says  the  Baron  with  a  start. 

"  That  is  the  voice  of  my  brother  whom  you  have  made 
a  lunatic  !  "  whispers  Harry.     Then  he  says  : 

"  For  God's  sake  go  away.  If  I  hear  him  again  I  shall 
kill  you  !  " 

Montez  with  a  gasp  runs  down  the  stairs  of  the  man- 
sion, and  springs  into  his  carriage  very  nimbly,  as  Harry 
Larchmont,  closing  the  door,  mutters  to  himself  :  "  Damn 
him  !  I  don't  think  he'll  forget  his  wedding-day  in  a 
hurry  !  "  Then  tears  come  into  his  eyes  and  he  murmurs. 
"  Poor  Frank  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE    PREFERRED    CREDITOR. 

Then   Mr.   Larchmont  looks  at  his  watch.     He  has 
just  time.     He  springs  up-stairs  to  the  door  of  Louise's 


252  BARON    MONTEZ. 

room,  raps  on  it,  and  would  shout :  "  Victory  !  "  but  the 
girl  knows  his  step,  and  is  before  him.  His  face  tells  its 
own  tale. 

She  cries  :  ^'  You've  won  !  Thank  Heaven  !  I — I 
am  so  happy  for  you." 

"  Yes,  we've  won  !  "  answers  Harry — "  won  in  full  ! 
But  to  nail  our  flag  over  his — I  must  go  at  once  —I  have 
just  time  to  do  it  !  Good-by — our  interview  this  even- 
ing !  "  His  voice  grows  very  tender,  and  wringing  her 
hand,  he  mutters  :  "  God  bless  you  !     It  was  all  you  !  " 

By  this  time  he  is  down  the  stairs,  but  at  the  foot  of 
them  he  turns  and  cries  :  "I'll  attend  to  your  dress  !  " 
then  opens  the  front  door,  springs  down  the  steps,  and 
gets  into  his  brother's  carriage,  which  has  been  wait- 
ing for  him  for  the  last  hour. 

In  it  he  drives,  with  even  more  than  Parisian  reckless- 
ness, to  his  American  lawyer,  Mr.  Evarts  Barlow,  and 
getting  him  into  his  carriage,  the  two  post  off  to  the 
Paris  agents  of  the  New  York  bankers  who  hold  the 
American  securities  of  Fernando  Montez.  At  their  sug- 
gestion, the  agency  cables  their  home  house,  that  all  the 
stocks,  bonds,  and  investments  of  Baron  Montez  in  their 
hands  have  been  transferred  and  made  over  to  Harry 
Sturgis  Larchmont,  by  personal  deed  of  their  former 
owner,  properly  acknowledged  and  registered,  which  they 
(the  agency)  now  hold  ;  that  all  further  dividends  upon 
said  securities,  earned  now  or  in  future,  are  to  be  paid  in 
to  Mr.  Larchmont's  account,  at  his  bankers  in  New  York. 

This  being  done,  Harry  remembers  he  has  another 
errand,  and  telling  it  to  his  lawyer,  the  latter  laughs  : 
"  What  ? — A  Parisian  modiste^  so  soon  !  " 

"Certainly!  She's  worn  one  dress  three  days  run- 
n-ing  !  "  replies  Harry.  Then  he  says,  in  a  voice  that 
makes  Barlow  glance  very  sharply  at  him  :  "  She's  like  a 
dream  in  muslin  !  What  will  she  be  under  the  genius  of  a 
Worth  or  a  Felix  ?   You've  a  treat  before  you  to-night !  " 

So  it  comes  to  pass  that,  about  four  o'clock  this  after- 
noon, a  forewoman  of  a  great  Parisian  dressmaker  calls 
upon  Louise,  and  presents  a  note  which  reads  : 

My  Dear  Miss  Minium: 

With  this  I  send  you  some  robes  to    choose    from.     You   need 
not  fear  the  expense.     If  you  take  them  all,  they  are  easily  within 


BARON    MONTEZ.  253 

your  income.     I'll  explain  the  financial  part  of  it  this  evening.     I've 
nailed  everything — by  your  aid. 

"  Yours  most  sincerely, 

Harry  Larchmont. 

P.  S.  Please,  for  my  sake,  put  on  the  prettiest  to-night.  The 
great  lawyer  I  told  you  of  will  call  with  me — upon  your  business." 

This  kind  of  a  note  dazes  the  girl.  The  dresses  dis- 
played to  her  delight  but  astound  her.  In  her  present 
state  of  mind,  she  would  send  the  woman  away  and 
tell  her  :  "  To-morrow — any  other  time  !  "  But  Harry's 
note  says  :  "  For  my  sake  !" 

So  Louise  looks  over  the  robes,  and  now  the  legacy 
left  her  by  Mother  Eve  comes  into  play.  The  dresses 
fight  their  own  battle  ;  for  they  are  exquisite  conglom- 
erations of  tulle  and  gauze— the  tissues  and  webs  of 
Lyons  thrown  together  by  a  genius  for  such  effects. 

Just  at  this  moment  Jessie  adds  her  efforts  to   this 
scene.     She  comes  in  and  chirps  :  "  My  !  How  lovely! 
and  looks  over  the  gowns  with  exclamations  of  delight, 
but  not  of  envy.     For  she  cries  :  *'  How  beautiful  you 
will  be  this  evening!  " 

''  This  evening  !  Mr.  Larchmont  has  written  you  ?  " 

"  Yes — this  unsatisfactory  note,  half  an  hour  ago," 
pouts  Jessie.  It  only  says  :  '  Have  a  nice  dinner  for  four 
this  evening  at  eight  sharp.  I  shall  bring  Mr.  Evarts 
Barlow  with  me.'  Evarts  Barlow  ? — he  is  one  of  the  great 
lawyers  of  Manhattan.  I  saw  him  last  season.  He's  not 
so  old,  either,"  goes  on  Jessie,  contemplatively.  "  I  think 
I'll  put  my  best  foot  forward.  I've  got  some  dresses  of 
the  Montez  trousseau  that  are  rather  coninie  il  faut,  I 
imagine.  I'll  go  at  that  trousseau  and  wear  it  out  quick, 
before  I'm  promised  again.     It  shan't  do  double  duty  !  " 

She  goes  away,  and  Louise,  thinking  of  Miss  Severn^s 
remarks  about  putting  her  best  foot  forward,  says  to  her- 
self :  "  Why  should  not  I  do  the  same  ?  My  foot  is  also 
a  pretty  one,  I  believe  !  "  Then  she  laughs,  for  there  is 
something  in  all  these  remarks  of  Mr.  Larchmont's  and 
Jessie's,  that  brings  a  sudden  spasm  of  doubt  to  an  idea 
that  had  burned  itself  into  her  brain  in  those  hot  days  on 
the  Isthmus,  when  Harry  had  raved  in  the  delirium  of 
the  fever. 


254  BARON    MONTEZ. 

Then  Mother  Eve  flying  up  in  this  lovely  creature,  with 
the  assistance  of  the  forewoman,  who  is  very  expert  in 
such  matters,  Louise  finds  herself  in  such  a  toilette  by 
dinner-time,  that,  looking  on  herself,  she  is  amazed,  per- 
chance a  little  awed,  by  her  own  image  ;  for  she  is  a 
dream  of  fairy  beauty. 

So  Miss  Minturn  coming  down  into  the  great  parlor  of 
Francois  Larchmont,  with  its  wealth  of  bric-a-brac^  statues, 
and  paintings,  Jessie  runs  to  her  and  says  :  "  Don't  we 
contrast  just  right ! — only  you  overpower  me — you  have 
so  much  esprit!  "  for  Jessie  has  a  dear,  generous  heart, 
and  there  is  a  great  soul  in  Louise's  eyes  this  night. 

As  they  stand  together,  two  gentlemen  in  evening 
dress  enter  and  gaze  upon  them  amazed. 

"  Great  heavens,  Larchmont  !  "  whispers  the  lawyer  to 
Harry.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  I  had  such  pretty 
clients?     I  would  have  worked  for  them  as  if  inspired." 

"  I — I  didn't  know  she  was  quite  do  pretty,  myself !  " 
mutters  Harry,  who  has  eyes  for  only  one  of  them. 

A  moment  after,  the  introductions  are  made,  and 
Barlow  and  Jessie,  followed  by  Louise  and  Larchmont, 
go  in  to  one  of  those  pretty  little  dinners,  that  are  all  the 
more  pleasing  because  they  are  not  quite  banquets. 

As  they  sit  down.  Miss  Minturn's  thoughts  give  a 
jump  to  the  time  she  first  saw  the  gentleman  beside  her 
in  evening  costume — to  the  night  of  the  dinner  party  at 
Larchmont  Dclafield's,  when  she  was  not  guest,  but 
stenographer.  Then  recollections  bring  blushes.  It  is 
her  pretty  shoulders  Mr.  Larchmont  is  7tow  looking  at, 
not  Miss  Severn's. 

Into  this  reminiscence  Jessie  breaks  :  "  Guardy  Harry, 
have  you  got  me  into  your  clutches  thoroughly  ?  Are 
you  legally  my  guardian  now  }  " 

"  Yes  !  "  replies  Larchmont.  Then  he  looks  curiously 
but  anxiously  at  Louise,  and  says :  ''  I  am  also  the 
guardian  of  another  young  lady  !  " 

"  Another  ward  ?  You  wholesale  guardian  ;  who  is 
she  ?  "  laughs  Jessie. 

"  Miss  Minturn  !  " 

''  1 !  "  gasps  Louise,  her  eyes  growing  astonished  and 
almost  affrighted. 

"Why,  certainly!"  remarks  Barlow.  "I  had  the 
order  of  court  made  to-day.     You're  only  nineteen  ? " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  255 

"  Y-e-s  :  " 

"  Then  not  of  •  age  in  Paris,  though  you  may  be  in 
America.  It  was  necessary  for  the  proper  protection  of 
your  interests  and  property,  that  a  guardian  should  be 
appointed.     Heiresses  must  be  looked  after." 

"  Heiress  ! — I —  ?  "  stammers  Louise. 
.,"0f  course,"  interjects  Harry,  "if  you  don't  like  it, 
you  can  have  some  one  else  appointed  to-morrow — Mr. 
Barlow,  for  instance — but  for  to-night,"  he  rises  and  bows 
profoundly  to  her,  "  I  believe  I  have  the  honor  of  being 
your  guardian  and  your  trustee." 

Here  Jessie  suddenly  exclaims  :  "Both  Harry's  wards  ! 
Delightful !  Louise,  we  can  do  our  lessons  together  and 
have  the  same  governess.  Half  of  the  present  one  will 
be  enough  for  me  !  " 

"Jessie  !  "  cries  Larchmont,  sternly,  for  Louise's  eyes 
have  looked  rebellious  at  the  mention  of  lessons  and  a 
governess.  "  Miss  Minturn  is  a  little  older  than  you. 
This  appointment  is  more  form  than  otherwise." 

"  Oh  ! — Well,  it  don't  matter  being  Harry's  ward," 
giggles  Miss  Severn.  "  He  is  a  good,  indulgent  guard- 
ian. He  lets  5^ou  do  as  you  like.  But  if  it  was  Frank  ! 
— Whew  ! — Louise,  he  might  decree  that  you  were  only 
eleven  or  twelve  years  old  to-morrow  morning  !  " 

"  And  if  you  were  sullen,  kodak  you,"  interjects  Harry, 
grimly. 

But  a  scream  from  Jessie  interrupts  him.  "  Oh,  good- 
ness !  "  she  ejaculates.  "  He  didn't  get  a  picture  of 
me  !  " 

"  Yes — a  very  charming  one.  It  is  labelled,  '■L enfant 
gdte'e'   You  look  as  if  you  were  springing  at  the  camera." 

"And  so  I  was  !  "  mutters  poor  Jessie.  "  I  thought 
he  had  not  snapped  it  in  time.  Did  he  really  get  one  ?  " 
The  tears  come  into  her  eyes,  and  she  begs :  "  Please 
don't  show  it — Please " 

"Not  if  you're  a  good,  obedient  little  girl!"  says 
Harry,  with  great  magnanimity. 

As  for  Louise,  she  has  been  silent  during  this.  The 
word  "  heiress "  has  put  her  into  a  kind  of  coma ;  the 
term  "  guardian  "  has  given  her  a  fearful  start,  and  some- 
times her  eyes  look  at  Harry  Larchmont  in  a  half-bash- 
ful, half-frightened  sort  of  way. 

Then  the  conversation  runs  pleasantly  on,  Harry  tell- 


256  BARON    MONTEZ. 

ing  Barlow  of  his  Isthmus  adventures ;  some  of  his 
stories  making  Miss  Minturn,  who  has  gradually  been 
regaining  her  intellect,  blush,  though  they  make  her 
more  tender  to  the  man  relating  them,  for  they  bring 
back  the  days  she  had  struggled  for  his  life  by  his 
bedside  in  the  room  of  young  George  Bovee. 

This  talk  of  the  Isthmus  leads  to  talk  of  the  Panama 
Canal,  Barlow  remarking:  "The  Senate  will  probably 
pass  the  Lottery  Bill  to-night." 

"  That  will  give  the  enterprise  six  months  longer  to 
exist,  I  imagine  ;  but  more  empty  pocketbooks  and  more 
bankrupt  stockholders,  when  the  inevitable  crash  comes," 
rejoins  Larchmont.  "  By  the  by,  I  wonder  if  the  Baron 
is  looking  after  it  this  evening  !  Eh,  Jessie  ?  What 
would  you  have  said  to  journeying  to  Italy  about  now, 
with  his  chocolate  face  beside  you  ? " 

At  this  Miss  Severn  shudders,  grows  pale,  but  says 
firmly  :  "  He  has  kinks  in  his  hair.  I  would  have  said, 
'  No  ! '  right  in  his  face,  to  both  notary  and  priest." 

With  this,  as  the  dinner  is  over.  Miss  Jessie  rises,  and 
going  to  the  door,  turns,  and  lifting  her  skirts  a  little, 
courtesies,  after  manner  of  dancing-school  children,  and 
says  :  *'  I  bid  you  adieu  till  apres  le  cigar ^  my  guardian  !  " 

And  Louise,  who  has  risen  also,  a  kind  of  reckless 
mirth  coming  to  her,  follows  Jessie's  example,  and, 
courtesying  to  the  floor,  murmurs:  "Your  obedient 
ward,  Monsieur  Larchmont  !  " 

'  Then  the  two  go  off  laughing  towards  the  parlor,  leav- 
ing the  gentlemen  to  cigars  and  coffee.  But  they  don't 
take  very  long  over  these,  for  Barlow  says  :  "  We  owe  a 
little  explanation  to  Miss  Minturn  about  her  affairs." 

To  this  Harry  replies  :  "  Very  well  !  Let's  get  it 
over  ! "  a  curiously  anxious  look  passing  over  his  face. 

Then  the  two  coming  into  the  parlor,  Mr.  Larchmont 
takes  Jessie  aside,  and  whispers  :  "  Would  you  mind  run- 
ning up-stairs  for  a  little  ?  Mr.  Barlow  and  I  have  some 
business  with  Louise — Miss  Minturn." 

'■'■  Shall  I  not  come  down  again  ?  "  falters  Jessie. 

"  No,  perhaps  you  had  better  not.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  well  to  bid  Mr.  Barlow  good-evening  now  !  I  im- 
agine you  have  lessons  to  learn  !  " 

At  which  Miss  Jessie  astonishes  him.  She  says : 
"  Yes,  and  you  have  something  to  say  to  Louise.     But — 


BARON    MONTEZ.  257 

I'll  be  down  to  congratulate  !  "  and   so  with  a  bow  to 
Barlow  moves  out  of  the  room. 

Then  Harry  and  Mr.  Barlow  go  into  a  business  con- 
versation with  Miss  Minturn. 

Mr.  Larchmont  says  :  "  I  have  received  a  number  of 
millions  of  francs  in  trust  for  three  creditors  of  Baron 
Mpntez.  You,  Miss  Minturn,  are  the  preferred  creditor. 
Vour  dividend  first !  " 

"  My  dividend  on  what  ?  " 

Here  the  lawyer  remarks :  "  You  are  the  sole  heir  to 
your  mother,  and  she  was  the  sole  heir  of  her  parents. 
They  were  robbed,  I  understand  from  Mr.  Larchmont, 
of  sixty  thousand  dollars  on  the  Isthmus,  in  1856.  This 
at  interest  at  six  per  cent.,  for  thirty-two  years,  com- 
pounded yearly,  amounts  to  nearly  four  hundred  thous- 
and dollars— two  millions  of  francs." 

'' Oh,  goodness!  — So  much?" 

"  Certainly  !  "  answers  Harry,  "  I've  computed  it  !  " 
and  he  bows  before  her,  and  says  :  "  Behold  another 
American  heiress  !  " 

Here  Louise  astounds  the  lawyer  and  stabs  Harry  to 
the  heart.  She  says  in  broken  voice  :  "  You,  Mr.  Barlow, 
take  it  for  me  —  you  be  my  guardian.  You  can  be 
appointed  to-morrow  !  " 

**  Good  heavens  !  "  cries  Larchmont.-  "  What  have  I 
done  ?     Can't  you  trust  me  ? " 

"Trust  you?  Of  course  I  can!"  murmurs  Louise; 
"  but  two  wards  will  be  too  much  for  you  to  guide." 
Then  she  says  faintly  :  "  Yes,  let  Mr.  Barlow  be  my 
guardian — take  care  of  my  money — I'll  leave  it  to  his 
judgment  ! " 

"Of  course,  if  you  ask  it  I  can  hardly  refuse,"  returns 
the  lawyer  ;  "  but  you  had  better  think  over  it  till  to- 
morrow." 

And  noting  that  the  girl  is  strangely  agitated,  Evarts 
Barlow  remarks  :  "  I  will  go  now,  and  see  you  in  the 
morning.  Your  interests  this  evening  are  thoroughly 
safe  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Larchmont  !  " 

So  this  diplomat  makes  his  bow,  and  taking  Larch- 
mont with  him  to  the  hall  door,  he  whispers  :  "  This 
strain  has  been  too  much  for  your  pretty  ward.  If 
you're  not  careful,  she'll  require  the  doctor,  not  the 
lawyer  !  I'm  afraid  she  has  wounded  your  feelings." 
17 


258  BARON    MONTEZ. 

"  My  heart  !  "  replies  Harry,  with  a  sigh.  And  Barlow 
bidding  him  adieu,  Larchmont  marches  in  to  his  fate, 
and  goes  into  the  great  parlor  where  Miss  Minturn 
stands,  more  beautiful  than  ever  before  this  evening. 

It  is  the  beauty  of  resolution. 

As  he  looks  at  her,  the  laces  and  tissues  clinging 
about  her  exquisite  figure  are  so  still,  she  would  seem  a 
statue,  were  it  not  for  the  quick  heaving  of  a  maiden 
bosom  that  throbs  up  white  and  round  and  trembling 
beneath  its  laces,  and  a  little  nervous  twitching  of  lips 
that  should  be  red,  but  are  now  pale.  There  is  a  fear 
in  her  eye  She  uplifts  a  dainty  hand  almost  in  warning, 
for  he  has  come  up  to  her,  pride  upon  his  face,  agony 
in  his  heart,  and  anguish  in  his  eyes,  and  said  sternly  : 
"  How  dare  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

''  Refuse  to  accept  me  as  your  guardian  !  Imply  I 
was  not  worthy  of  the  trust — I,  who  think  more  of  it 
than  any  man  upon  earth  !  " 

"Oh,"  sa3^s  the  girl,  "I  presume  I  can  choose  my 
mentor — I  have  arrived  at  years  of  discretion  enough  for 
that !  "  Then  she  falters  :  "  Let  me  go  away !  1 — I  have 
saved  your  bride  for  you  !  " 

"  Have  you  ?  "  mutters  Harry,  surlily.  "  That's  some 
little  blessing  !  " 

"  Yes — let  me  go  away " 

*'  Not  out  of  this  house  to-night  !  " 

''  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  forbid  you  !  "  answers  Harry.  "  To-mor- 
row you  may  have  Barlow — or  any  one  else  you  like — 
but  to-day  the  courts  of  France  made  me  your  guardian  — 
and  to  night  you  obey  ?ne  !  " 

"  You  forget — to-morrow — you  are  not  my  guardian 
then!  Let  me  go!  May  you  be  happy  !  "  And,  fearing  for 
herself,  Louise  glides  towards  the  door.  But  his  hand  is 
upon  her  white  arm,  and  his  voice  whispers  :  **  Not  with- 
out me  !  " 

On  this  the  girl  pulls  herself  away,  faces  him  with  eyes 
that  blaze  like  stars,  and  stabs  him  with  these  cutting 
words  :  "  Do  you  want  to  compel  me  to  run  away  from 
you  as  I  did  from  Montez  that  awful  night  ? " 

"  Why  won't  you  have  me  for  your  guardian  ? '' 

"  One  ward  is  enough  !  " 


BARON    MONTEZ.  259 

"  Ah  !     You  are  jealous  of  Jessie  !  " 

"  Pish  !     Of  that  child  ?  " 

"  Yes — jealous  of  her  !  "  answers  Harry,  who  has  dis- 
covered that  the  Roman  way  is  the  only  true  method  of 
winning  this  Sabine  virgin.  Then  he  astounds  and  petri- 
fies her,  for  he  murmurs  :  "  You  love  me  !  " 

"  I  ?  My  Heaven  !  How  dare  you  ?"  And  the  girl  is 
before  him  with  flaming  eyes. 

But    he   smites    her   with  :    "  Because    I    have    your 

DIARY  !  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  "  '< 

"  Yes,  from  Mrs.  Winterburn  in  Panama  !  " 

"  Ah  !  the  traitress  !  "  Louise's  hands  fly  to  her  affright- 
ed face  ;  she  bows  her  drooping  head,  tell-tale  blushes 
cover  her  face,  her  neck,  and  even  her  snowy  shoulders, 
making  what  had  been  glistening  white,  gleaming  pink. 
But  she  forces  herself  to  again  look  at  this  man,  and  her 
eyes  seem  to  be  scornful,  and  disdain  is  on  her  lips,  as  she 
mutters  :  "  And  you  dared  to  read  it  ?  " 

"No  !" 

"  Then  how  did  you  discover ?  " 

"  Ah  !     I  have  you— ah  !  " 

"  O  Heaven  !  " 

"  A  bunch  of  violets  and  a  card  dropped  out  of  it — my 
tokens  of  the  blizzard.  They  were  mine  before — they  are 
mine  now  !  "  cries  Harry,  and  pulls  them  out  of  his  breast 
and  kisses  them.  Then  he  says  tenderly  :  "  I  stole  your 
confession — I  give  you  mine  I  I  love  you  with  my  soul ! 
good  angel  of  my  life — whose  scorn  kept  me  from  mak- 
ing a  fool  of  myself  in  Panama — whose  kind  nursing 
saved  me  from  the  fever  !  I  love  you  !  Without  you  for 
my  wife,  life  has  but  little  for  me — what  does  the  kind 
nurse — who  saved  it  in  far-away  Panama — say?" 

And  Louise  stands  fluttering  before  him — loveliness 
personified — loveliness  .astounded — loveliness  in  doubt 
— loveliness  blushing — loveliness  that  is  about  to  be 
happy  ;  for  a  sturdy  arm  that  has  played  in  many  a 
foot-ball  game  is  round  her  waist,  and  is  giving  her 
such  a  grip  as  never  Princeton  man  received  in  college 
jouissance. 

The  girl  gives  no  answer  save  a  little  sigh  ;  she  has 
almost  fainted  in  his  arms.  But  a  moment  after,  her 
happy  eyes  seek  his,  and  she  falters:  "Was  it  only  to 


26o  BARON    MONTEZ. 

save  your  brother?  Was  it  only  to  save  your  fortune 
you  went  to  Panama  ?  " 

"  That  at  first,"  answers  Harry,  stoutly.  "  But  after- 
wards I  fought  to  be  rich  enough  to  put  you  in  the  place 
in  society  that  you  will  adorn  !  "  Then  he  queries  :  "  Shall 
I  continue  to  be  your  guardian  ?  Shall  I  tell  Barlow  he 
need  not  oust  me  in  court  to-morrow  ? " 

*'  Since  you  are  going  to  be  my  permanent  guide," 
returns  the  young  lady  with  a  piquant  nioue,  *'  I  suppose 
you  might  as  well  get  into  practice  as  my  guardian." 

*'  Then  may  God  treat  me  as  I  treat  you  !  " 

There  are  tears  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  there  are  kisses 
on  her  cherry  lips,  as  Louise  says  playfully  :  "  Dear 
Guardy  !  I  shall  give  you  even  more  trouble  than  Jessie  !  " 

'*  Then  I  will  cut  my  guardianship  very  short  !  "  cries 
Larchmont,  a  gleam  of  joy  flying  into  his  face  as  he  walks 
up  to  the  girl,  who  can't  now  meet  his  eyes,  as  his  arm 
goes  around  her  waist  again.  For  he  says :  "  I,  Harry 
Sturgis  Larchmont  of  New  York,  demand  of  you,  Harry 
Sturgis  Larchmont,  at  present  of  Paris,  the  hand  of  your 
ward.  Miss  Louise  Ripley  Minturn,  in  marriage  !  And  I, 
Harry  Sturgis  Larchmont,  guardian  of  said  young  lady, 
accept  your  proposition,  my  worthy  young  man,  for  I 
have  a  deuced  good  opinion  of  you,  and  solemnly  be- 
troth her  to  you,  and  announce  that  the  nuptials  shall 
take  place  within  the  month." 

"  Within  the  month  !  "  falters  Louise.  "  But  I  have 
only  known  you  four  !  " 

"  Yes,,  but  guardians  must  be  obeyed  !  " 

Then  there  are  more  kisses,  and  Mr.  Larchmont  walks 
out,  and  mutters  to  himself  :  "  By  Jo,ve !  that  was  a 
harder  battle  than  I  had  with  the  Baron  this  morning  !  " 

About  half  an  hour  afterward,  meeting  his  friend 
Barlow  at  the  Cafe  de-  la  Paix^  he  says :  "  You  need  not 
make  any  motion  about  that .  guardianship  business  ! 
The  young  lady  has  had  the  good  taste  to  accept  me, 
after  all ! " 

*'As  a  guardian?"  asks  Barlow,  in  tones  of  cross- 
examination. 

"  As  a  husband  as  well  ! "  remarks  Larchmont,  "  and 
the  sooner  you  get  to  work  at  the  wedding  settlements, 
the  better  it  will  please  both  the  guardian  and  ward." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Larchmont,  coming  from  his 


BARON    MONTEZ.  261 

apartments  on  the  Boulevard  Hauss77iann^  takes  Louise, 
and  says  to  Jessie  quite  solemnly :  "  This  young  lady  is 
to  be  my  wife.  As  the  wife  of  your  guardian  you  will 
obey  her,  eh,  rebellious  one  ?  " 

But  Jessie  gives  a  mocking  bow,  and  laughs  :  "  Oh,  I 
know  all  about  it !  She  told  me  last  night !  We  have 
been  talking  about  you  most  of  the  time  since.  I  have 
promised  to  be  obedient,  if  she  asks  me  to  do  just  what  I 
want  to  !  " 

*' Ah  !  "  replies  Harry,  "then  I  shall  exhibit  the  kodak." 

And  Jessie  cries  :  "  No  !  no  !  " 

But  he  is  in  a  merry  mood,  and  shows  the  picture  of 
renfa?it  gdte'e  to  Louise,  and  they  all  laugh  over  it. 

But  though  Jessie  giggles,  she  also  begs  ;  so  piteously 
he  gives  it  to  her.  Then  she  tears  it  into  a  hundred 
pieces,  and  tossing  them  over  her  head,  dances  on  them, 
crying  :  "  That's  how  I  leave  my  childhood  behind  me  !  " 
next  says  :  "  No  more  governesses  !  Eh,  Guardy  ? " 
with  a  pleading  look. 

"  After  the  wedding !  "  remarks  Mr.  Larchmont,  for 
he  has  thought  upon  this  subject,  and  he  has  concluded 
that  a  governess  for  Jessie  will  be  very  convenient  during 
the  honeymoon. 

But  the  next  morning  he  is  relieved  to  find  Mrs. 
Dewitt  has  returned  from  Switzerland.  He  introduces 
her  to  his  coming  bride,  and  this  lady  is  most  happy  to 
take  charge  of  Miss  Jessie  during  his  wedding  tour. 

In  one  of  their  numerous  communings,  within  the  next 
day  or  two,  Louise  says  to  Harry  :  "  We  are  so  happy ! 
Can't  we  do  a  little  to  make  others  happy  ? " 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?  " 

"  To  a  dear  little  friend  of  mine  in  New  York,  who  is 
going  to  be  married  also.  Miss  Sally  Broughton," 
answers  Louise.  "  Could  I  send  her  a  thousand  dol- 
lars ? " 

"  Of  course  !  ten  thousand  if  you  like.  It's  your 
money,  dearest,"  answers  Harry,  cheerfully. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  replies  Louise.  "  A  thousand  is 
enough.  It  will  mean  a  great  deal  to  Mrs.  Alfred  Tomp- 
kins." 

"  So  Sally  is  going  to  marry  Tompkins  !  "  remarks 
Larchmont,  grimly.  Then  he  suddenly  continues : 
"  Tompkins  was  the  man  who  shook  his  fist  at  me  when 


262  BARON    MONTEZ. 

he  saw  me  sail  away  on  the  Colon  with  you  ?  Eh  ?  "  and 
his  eyes  ask  av/ful  questions. 

''  Y-e-s  !  " 

"  Ho-oh  !  "  Then  Larchmont  smiles  a  little  and  says  : 
"  Any  other  gentleman  you  want  to  do  a  good  turn  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  to  George  Bovee,  who  nursed  you  on  the 
Isthmus  so  tenderly — who  was  such  a  good  chum  to  you 
out  there.  He  is  growing  pale  also — some  day  he  may 
have  the  fever,  and  there  will  be  no  one  to  nurse  him. 
Could  not  you  ? — you  need  some  one  to  manage  your 
affairs — "  For  Harry  had  been  complaining  about  the 
amount  of  business  that  had  suddenly  come  upon  him, 
from  his  brother's  incapacity. 

"  Oh,  I  cabled  George  yesterday ;  he  is  now  on  his  way 
to  Pans  !  " 

"  On  his  way  already  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  so  as  to  be  my  best  man." 

"  Oh,"  cries  Louise,  "  you  are  always  talking  of  the 
wedding  !  " 

"  Of  course  !  I  am  always  thinking  of  it !  " 

Probably  Louise  is  too,  for  she  and  Jessie  are  driving 
about  town,  from  milliner  to  dressmaker,  and  dressmaker 
to  jeweller  ;  and  all  the  gorgeous  paraphernalia  of  a 
mighty  trousseau  is  being  manufactured  in  this  the  town  of 
trousseaux^  as  fast  as  nimble  fingers  of  French  working- 
women  can  put  together  things  worthy  of  the  beauty  of 
the  bride. 

'  So  one  morning,  at  the  American  Legation,  Louise 
Minturn  is  married  to  Harry  Larchmont,  and  Evarts 
Barlow,  who  has  stayed  over  for  the  ceremony,  gives  the 
bride  away.  George  Bovee  stands  behind  his  old  chum 
of  the  Isthmus,  with  Miss  Jessie,  the  only  bridesmaid, 
but  with  the  concentrated  beauty  of  six  average  ones  in 
her  pretty  self. 

Then  bride  and  bridegroom  go  to  Italy — southern  Italy 
and  the  isles  of  the  Mediterranean — where  they  see 
palms  and  orange  trees,  and  dream  they  are  in  Panama 
— but  there  is  no  fever  !  And  coming  back  from  this 
trip,  they  linger  out  the  happy  autumn  time  in  Paris. 

But  one  evening  Francois  Leroy  Larchmont,  in  a  care- 
less moment  of  his  keepers,  escapes  from  them,  and  is 
out  all  night.  The  next  morning,  he  comes  back  with  a 
sleepy  look  upon  his  face. 


BARON    MONTEZ.  263 

But  Harry  Larchmont,  reading  the  morning  journals, 
gives  an  awful  start !  Two  days  after,  the  whole  party 
are  en  route  for  America,  taking  the  brother,  whose  mind 
is  now  permanently  gone,  with  them. 

Crushed,  defeated,  but  not  altogether  subdued  and  dis- 
mayed, Baron  Montez  staggered  down  the  steps  of  the 
Larchmont  mansion. 

The  next  day  he  calls  at  the  American  embassy,  and 
delivering  up  his  order,  receives,  after  identification,  a 
sealed  envelope,  which  he  tears  open,  and  finds  his  pocket- 
book — not  one  memorandum  gone,  and  his  eyes  glisten. 

He  thinks  :  "  With  this  I  have  enough  to  feed  upon 
the  vitals  of  this  republic.  Some  of  their  public  men 
are  in  my  power  !  "  Besides,  his  fortune,  outside  of  his 
American  investments,  is  large,  and  the  Lottery  Bill 
almost  immediately  passes  the  Senate  of  France  and  be- 
comes a  law.  He  receives  large  sums  of  money,  delin- 
quent payments  due  from  the  Canal  Company,  and 
though  he  is  forced,  by  the  record  of  the  ledgers  Louise 
has  taken,  to  make  some  restitution  to  Aguilla,  still,  as  he 
does  not  make  restitution  to  any  one  else,  his  fortune  is 
enormous. 

Though  the  shares  of  the  Canal  go  down  and  down, 
he  has  no  interest  in  them,  and  lives  the  life  of  a  gay 
bachelor  in  Paris. 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  deluded  investors  will  take 
no  more  lottery  bonds,  and  in  December  an  assignment 
is  made  to  a  receiver,  and  the  work  practically  stops  on 
the  Canal  Interoceanic. 

As  this  happens,  Fernando  Montez  becomes  possessed 
of  a  shadow.  Though  he  does  not  know  it,  as  he  walks 
along  the  boulevards,  a  shabby  creature  slinks  along  be- 
hind him.  When  he  goes  to  the  opera  or  theatre,  the 
creature  is  waiting  for  him  as  he  comes  out.  This  un- 
fortunate one  evening  stands  outside  the  gay  Cafe  de  la 
Faix,  with  its  flashing  lights,  and  sees  Montez  eating  the 
meal  of  Lucullus.  As  Fernando  comes  out,  well  fed,  con- 
tented, even  happy,  this  shabby  creature  mutters  to  him- 
self :  '■'•Norn  de Dieu  ! ior  his  dinner  he  paid  more  money 
than  I  saved  in  my  whole  first  year  of  deprivation  !  " 

And  Bastien  Lefort,  the  miser,  who  has  been  sold  out 
of  his  glove  store  on  the  Rue  Rivoli^  utterly  ruined  by  his 


264  BARON    MONTEZ. 

grand  investment  in  the  Canal  Interoceanic,  follows,  shiv-^ 
ering  with  cold,  and  brushing  the  snow  off  his  rags,  the' 
steps  of  the  well-dressed,  debotinair^  and  happy  Baron 
Montez. 

But  there  is  another — a  black  man  with  snowy  wool, 
and  two  great  red  gashes  upon  his  cheeks,  and  a  form 
bent  by  age,  but  strong  with  hate.  He  comes  alongside 
Lefort  and  whispers  :  "  How  now,  miser  !  Are  you  on 
the  track  of  your  enemy  ?  I,  Domingo  of  Porto  Bello, 
have  come  a  long  way  to  see  him,  also  !  " 

And  the  two  become  bloodhounds,  and  follow  the 
Baron  Montez  of  Panama  all  that  evening  to  the  haunts 
of  gay  bachelors  in  Paris  :  to  the  Eden  Theatre,  where 
there  is  a  ballet  ;  to  the  Palais  Royal,  where  he  laughs 
at  a  suggestive  farce.  But  whenever  he  comes  to  the 
streets — these  two  dog  his  footsteps. 

So  it  comes  to  pass,  late  that  night,  returning  from 
a /(?/// ^<7///^r  with  some  fair  sirens  of  the  gay  world  of 
Paris,  who  are  very  kind  to  rich  men,  Montez  enters  his 
apartments,  to  find  his  valet  is  not  in  them,  and  mutters 
to  himself  : 

"  The  worthless  beast !  I  will  discharge  him  to-mor- 
row !  " 

Then  Fernando  sits  down  to  await  the  coming  of  Herr 
Wernig  ;  for  these  two  are  hunting  in  couples  again. 

So  Montez  meditates  and  is  happy  ;  but,  chancing  to 
think  of  his  lost  American  securities,  he  utters  a  snort  of 
savage  remembrance,  and  taking  the  poker  in  his  hands 
breaks  up  the  coals  burning  in  his  porcelain  ornamental 
stove — and  as  the  blaze  flickers  up,  thinks  he  sees  a  face. 
He  starts  and  gazes  round,  and  sees  three  facos — the 
faces  of  the  wronged,  the  faces  of  the  past — Domingo's 
pirate  head,  the  miser's  wistful  face,  and  the  pallid  cheeks 
and  big  eyes  of  the  lunatic,  Francois  Larchmont. 

Fernando  thinks  it  a  dream.  The  lunatic  says  with 
cunning  chuckle  :  "  I  enticed  your  valet  away,  my  dear 
Baron — ha,  ha  ! — and  let  myself  in  with  my  old  pass-key 
— you  forgot  the  pass-key — ha,  ha  !  I  was  coming  in 
here  to  do  your  business  myself — ^but  these  two  gentle- 
men joined  me — ho  !*  ho!  ho  !  " 

Then  Montez'  dream  becomes  real  ! 

He  springs  up  to  cry  out  and  defend  himself — but  the 
lunatic's  hands  close  round  his  throat,  and  the  voice  of 


BARON    MONTEZ.  265 

a  madman  cries  :  "  Oh,  ho  !  my  friend  !  Baron  Montez 
of  Panama  and  Paris  !  " 

And  though  Montez  struggles  he  cannot  say  anything, 
and  his  eyes  have  despair  in  them,  for  three  men  have 
surrounded  him.  He  sees,  half  in  a  dream,  the  form  of 
Domingo,  the  ex-pirate,  whom  he  has  robbed,  who  whis- 
pers in  hoarse  voice  :  ''  Ah,  ha  ! — the  punishm^ent  of  the 
buccaneer — who  steals  from  his  fellows  !  " 

And  the  miser  cries  :  "  For  the  gold  of  my  ruined 
life  !  " 

Then  a  surging  is  in  his  ears  ;  there  is  the  report  of 
a  pistol,  and  three  forms  glide  out  into  the  darkness  ;  and 
on  the  floor,  his  own  revolver  in  his  hand,  lies  the  form 
that  was  once — Baron  Montez  of  Panama  and  Paris  ! 

A  few  minutes  after,  his  old  chum,  Alsatius  Wernig, 
comes  in  with  laughing  voice  and  merry  mood,  crying  : 
"  Oh,  ho  !  my  dear  Fernando  !  you  leave  your  door 
open.  You  should  be  careful !  You  might  be  robbed  !  " 
then  utters  a  horrified  ^^  Mein  Gott!"  and  staggers  from 
the  prostrate  form  before  him.  Next  he  says  slowly, 
with  pale  lips :  "  Murder !  If  they  have  stolen  the 
pocketbook  !  "  With  this  his  hand,  trembling,  goes  deep 
into  the  bosom  of  the  dead  man,  and  he  gives  a  gasp  of 
joy  as  it  draws  forth  the  black  pocketbook  of  Montez. 

Then  Wernig  mutters  :  "  In  other  hands,  this  would 
have  been  my  ruin  !  But  now  !  "  and  the  German's 
form  becomes  larger,  and  his  eyes  grow  luminous  with 
coming  potency,  as  he  jeers  :  "  I  own  the  secrets  of 
many  Deputies  and  some  Ministers  !  I  will  bleed  them 
till  they  die  !  I  will  be  rich  forever.  I  hold  the  poli- 
tics— perhaps  the  destinies— of  France  !  " 

Then  he  cautiously  leaves  the  room,  and  none  see 
him  come  down  the  stairs. 

The  next  morning  it  is  reported  that  Montez  of 
Panama  must  have  committed  suicide — though  it  is 
hinted  to  the  police  not  to  make  too  thorough  an  investi- 
gation of  the  affair — some  of  the  powers  that  be  seeming 
to  fear  Baron  Montez,  dead  as.  he  is,  will  rise  up  like 
Banquo's  ghost. 

But  Herr  Wernig  lives  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and 
bleeds  some  of  the  potentates  of  France,  right  and  left. 
He  spares  not  Ministers  nor  Deputies  who  have  been 
bribed,  and  would  keep  on  so  forever  ;   but  one  day, 


266  BARON    MONTEZ. 

years  afterward,  scandal  comes,  and  investigation  fol- 
lows, and  he  flies  from  France,  fearing  that  more  than 
any  other  country  upon  earth — the  country  he  has  de- 
bauched and  plundered.  For  the  foreign  adventurers 
who  came  to  Paris,  lured  by  the  millions  spent  or  squan- 
dered upon  the  Canal,  were  the  greediest,  the  most 
devouring — the  Swiss,  the  German,  the  man  of  all  nations. 

One  afternoon  in  ^92,  in  the  autumn,  there  is  a  great 
naval  parade  upon  the  Hudson  River,  and  the  flags  of  all 
nations  are  thrown  into  the  air  from  vessels  belonging  to 
the  great  countries  of  the  world. 

And  from  a  private  retreat,  situated  on  the  Palisades 
overlooking  the  river,  kept  by  a  doctor  well  known  for 
his  skill  in  treating  diseases  of  the  mind,  a  gentleman 
comes  forth  onto  the  lawn.  He  is  very  elaborately 
dressed  in  the  latest  fashion,  and  seems  happy,  as  he 
should  be,  for  a  beautiful  woman  and  handsome  man 
walk  by  his  side,  and  he  calls  them  sister  and  brother. 
He  looks  over  the  great  river,  and  jabbers,  "Ha!  "  to 
the  guns. 

Then,  seeing  the  flag  of  France,  he  cries  :  "  It  is  the 
opening  of  the  Panama  Canal  !  Montez  was  right ! 
My  dividends  !  My  dividends  !  "  And  gazing  over  the 
beautiful  Hudson  he  chuckles:  '' Mon  Dieu  I  What  a 
glorious  canal  this  is  at  my  feet  !  What  dividends  we'll 
make  !  Hurrah  for  De  Lesseps,  Francois  Leroy  Larch- 
mbnt,  and  Bafon  Montez  of  Panama  and  Paris  !  "      ^s^ 


ARCHIBALD  GLAVERING  GUNTER'S 

WORLD    READ   WORKS, 
AND  THOSE  EDITED  BYTHESAME  GREAT  AUTHOR 

THE  MOST  SUCCESSFUL  NOVELS  EVER  PUBLISHED  IN  AMERICA. 


Wlr.  Barnes  of  New  York.    Cloth,  $l.co.    Paper,  50c. 

"A  capital  story  ;  most  people  have  read  it.    I  recommend  it  to  all  the  others," 

JAMES  PAYNE  in  Illustrated  Loudon  News. 

"Eave  you  read  'Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York?'  If  not.  go  and  read  it  at  once  and 
thank  me  for  suggesting  it.  1  want  to  be  put  on  record  as  saying  it  is  the  best  story  of 
the  day— the  best  I  have  read  in  ten  years.^  J  OE  HO  VVA IID  in  Bostou  CJ  lobe. 

Mr.  Potter  of  Texas-   ciotii.  $i.oo.    Paper,  50c. 

♦'Mr.  Gnnter's  books  are  more  generally  read  than  perhaps  those  of  ANY  OTHER 
LIVING  WRITER."  The  Times,  London,  England,  Njv.  4,  1888. 

That  Frenchman,    ciotii,  $1.50.    Paper,  50c. 

"The  work  exhibits  the  wonderful  resources  of  the  author's  mind  and  the  richness  of 
his  imaginative  powers.  The  characters  are  torcibly  drawn,  the  details  worked  up  with 
surprising  exactness,  and  the  plot  unraveled  with  scrupulous  care." 

Saii  Francisco  Post. 

Miss  Nobody  of  Nowhere-    Cloth,  ii.oo.  Paper,  soc 

"Full  of  incident  and  excitement."  New  York  Herald. 

"A  story  that  will  keep  a  man  away  from  Lis  meals."  Omaha  Bee. 

A  Florida  Enchantment,    cioth.  $1.00.    Paper,  soc. 

"All  those  who  read  any  of  Mr.  Guuter's  works  will  asree  with  the  writer  that  he  is 
one  of  America's  greatest  story  tellers,  and  in  A  Florida  Enchantment'  he  has  given  the 
public  a  story  that  is  most  intensely  interesting  and  one  that  will  have  an  immense  sale." 

Philliusburu^  Journal,  May 25, 1892. 
"  Will  enchain  the  man  or  woman  who  sits  down  to  read  it," 

The  Daily  Surf,  Santa  Cruz,  Cal. 

How  I   Escaped.     Cloth,  $1.00.     Paper,  50c. 

"The  best  story  of  the  War  yet  written."  Atlanta  Constitution. 

My  Official  Wife.     Cloth,  $1.00.     Paper,  SOc 

"  It  would  be  hard  tr-  find  a  more  excitng  story  than  '  My  Official  Wife.'  A  series  of 
events  and  situations  ^rhich  increase  in  excitement,  mystery  and  danger.  A  book 
through  which  the  reader  will  dash  with  wild  eagerness. '      New  York  Herald. 

"Wonderfully  clever."  London  Times. 

Small  Boys  In  Big  Boots.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

Magnificently  bound  and  beautifully  illustrated  by  celebrated  artists. 

"It  is  novel,  vigorous,  and  never  dull.  It  is  written  especially  for  children,  but 
plenty  of  grown-up  people  will  find  themselves  capable  of  being  entertained  by  it." 

New   York  Sun. 
"  The  boys  and  girls  are  real  flesh  and  blood  creations.    Mr.  Gunter's  book  cannot 
fail  to  be  popular  with  the  cliildren,  and  it  bids  fair  to  be  equally  liked  by  the  fathers 
and  mothers  of  the  children."  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"It  overflows  with  humor  and  is  the  best  juvenile  story  of  the  season.  Every  boy 
and  girl  in  America  will  want  to  read  this  clever  work  by  Mr.  Gunter." 

Davenport  Democrat. 

Miss  Dividends.     Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50c. 

'•  A  most  interesting  story."  Boston  Daily  Traveller,  Nov.  25,  *92, 

"Mr.  Gunter  works  out  the  interesting  plot  with  carefully  elaborated  and  fascina- 
ting details."  Burlington  Hawkeye,  Dec.  7.  1892. 
"  Carries  U3  breathless  from  first  page  to  last."     London  Globe,  Dec.  2,  1893. 


Any  of  the  above  books  sent  post-paid  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  price, 

THE  HOME  PUBLISHIM  COMPANY,  3  East  14tli  St.,  »ew  York. 


OPINIONS  OF 

THE  GREAT  NOVEL, 

Mr.  Barnes 


of  New  York. 


ENGLAND. 

"There  is  no  reason  for  surprise  at  *Mr.  Barnes' 
being  a  big  hit'' — The  Eeferee^  London,  March  25th. 

^^ Exciting  and  interesting.'' — The  Graphic, 

*' 'Marina  Paoli' — a  giant  character — just  as  strong 
as  *  Fedora.' " — Illustrated  London  News. 

"A  capital  story — most  people  have  read  it — I 
recommend  it  to  all  the  others." 

— James  Payne  in  Illustrated  London  News. 

AMERICA. 

"Told  with  the  genius  of  Alexander  Dumas,  the 
Elder." — Amusement  Gazette. 

"Have  you  read  *  Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York  ? '  If 
no,  go  and  read  it  at  once,  and  thank  me  for  suggesting 
it.  ...  I  want  to  be  put  on  record  as  saying  '  it  is 
the  best  story  of  the  day — the  best  I  have  read  in  ten 
years.* " — Joe  Howard  in  Boston  Globe. 

But  at   that   time   Mr.   Howard   had 
not   read 

"Mr.  Potter  of  Texas." 


Mr.  Potter 

of  Texas. 


AMERICAN   EDITION. 

170,000 

ENGLISH   EDITION, 

100,000 


"The  description  of  the  Bombard- 
ment of  Alexandria,  in  'Mr.  Potter  of 
Texas/  is,  perhaps,  the  most  stirring 
picture  painted  by  the  pen  of  any 
writer  in  several  generations!' 


Miss  Nobody 

of  Nowhere 

Now  In  its  100,000. 


BY 

ARCHIBALD  CLAVERING  GUNTER 

Mr.  Gunter's  accurate  knowledge  of  what  he  so  intensely 
narrates  has  never  been  brought  so  forcibly  to  the  minds  of 
Americans  as  in  "  Miss  Nobody  of  Nowhere,"  because  here 
Mr.  Gunter's  characters  and  incidents  are  upon  American  soil. 

The  New  York  Press  asserts  that  in  the  part  of  the  book 
devoted  to  New  York  society  will  be  found  "  characters  that 
will  provoke  the  audible  smiles  of  instant  recognition."  While 
the  Lordsburg  Western  Liberal  devotes  six  columns  of  its 
paper,  published  in  that  far-away  portion  of  New  Mexico,  the 
scene  of  the  fight  of  the  gallant  college  cowboy  to  save  the 
little  English  girl  from  Nana's  braves,  to  "  Miss  Nobody  of 
Nowhere,"  and  in  a  leading  editorial  remarked  as  follows  : 

"  The  people  of  the  West  owe  Mr.  Gunter  a  debt  for  painting 
the  Indian  question  in  a  manner  so  true  and  accurate,  and 
introducing  it  into  a  book  which  will  be  widely  read  by  the 
class  of  people  whom  Sheriff  Garvey  calls  '  the.  ->  cussed 
philanthropodists.'  If  the  book  had  been  published  last 
summer  and  Sheriff  Harvey  Whitehill  had  circulated  about 
fifteen  hundred  of  them  through  the  country,  he  would  been 
re-nominated  and  re-elected  without  a  struggle." 

''Full  of  incident  and  excitement,^^ 

—NEW  YORK  HERALD. 

''The  Popularity  of  Mr.  Gunter  will 
now    he  greater   than   ever,^^ 

—TACOMA  GLOBE. 

^' A  story  that  will  keep  a  man  away 
from  his  meals.^^— OMAHA  BEE. 


